Aftermath
by Rebel40000
Summary: Radic the Jet, member of the Ai Jigoku, has destroyed the city of Mejak. Snyde the Shadow must now go facetoface with this seemingly psychotic Reploid, but is there more to him than meets the eye? Chapter 9 is now up. Please, R&R!
1. Starting from the End

Disclaimer: All characters are copyright to MYSELF. The only stuff that I feel should be copyrighted to anyone else are story elements, and some things that are mentioned, along with the designs, which should be credited to CAPCOM, and the creator of TRIGUN, among others. (Whoever can tell me his name will get my blessings, since I am too damn lazy to remember for myself. :P)

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**-Aftermath-**

Chapter One - "Starting from the End"

It was the year 22XX. After the destruction of Maverick Hunter Far East HQ, and the confirmation of Colonel Redips' betrayal, the other powers of Maverick Hunter took extreme caution in what any of them were capable of. So far, the only other Hunter who had copy abilities was the Class S Hunter, Axl, but according to DNA tests, he was incapable of going Maverick through copying bodies. However, it was still made clear to keep an eye out for any suspicious signs. For others it was a time for preparations as the multiple divisions began looking for new recruits, willing to defend the lives of the innocent.

While most of the Reploids who were Hunters were made to be in the war, it was sometimes required to enlist additional support. It wasn't the most effective way to get soldiers, since they had to be trained, whereas the ones who were built for fighting purposes only didn't need any guidance, save a battalion to join with. It was no different at Maverick Hunter 22nd Unit, South Division, as a group of young Reploids stood at attention as they listened attentively to their new leader.

"All right, listen up. Today were going to go over field work," Captain Hoover, a large, well-built Reploid with a loud, deep voice, who always had a hardened look, called out. "I'm going to request two volunteers, one as the Hunter, and the other as the operator. You might as well just do so, since if you don't, I'll end up picking the two who are shaking the most."

Immediately, one hand shot up. Hoover gave a quick smirk before giving off another of his hardened looks. "All right, Starfighter. Get over here."

Starfighter, a red-headed Reploid, who instead of having a helmet had white earpieces, ran up to the commander and gave a salute. His armor was an an emerald green, and his shoulder pads and boots were some red emblems, which matched his hair, and were of slightly curved stars. He also had gold triangle-shaped cuffs for his gauntlets and boots. He had a confident smile, and it there was a reason why--he was one of the best recruits, and he had a gift when it came to operating. Both he and everyone else knew it.

"Anyone else?" Hoover called out again. Not getting a response, he sighed and motioned for one of the others to come. He then assigned the two the positions they would be the most capable at handling. After getting them prepared, he spoke again. "Okay, so, this mission is going to be based on how many targets you can skillfully avoid. You must work with your operator in order to successfully dodge all of them. The key to this mission is team work. Do you both understand?"

"Yes sir!" they both called out. Starfighter was in a small room behind Hoover, who kindly stepped out of the way for him to see. It wasn't like it was a big deal, though. After all, if he got hit, it wouldn't kill him since it was only paint. Still, it was his job to use his skills to the best of his abilities as an operator... Listening to Commander Hoover on his earpiece, he readied himself for him to yell "Begin" and allow the test to begin. However, before he could do that, he saw something which made his eyes widen in horror...

"C-Captain!"

Hoover couldn't reply as himself saw it, but it was too late. A giant ball of plasma had crashed onto the training course, followed by a large explosion. Starfighter watched in horror as the captain and the rest of the recruits were torn to shreds by its sheer power, and then as he noticed the room he was in slowly start to fall apart. Without any other options, he clutched onto his keyboard, which was built into the desk, as he was lifted off his feet. While the explosion had ended, it had created a large, powerful wind to pick up, tearing up the ground beneath him. Grass, dirt, and even trees flew past him as he tried his best to hold on for dear life. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he let go, and as if to answer that thought, a tremor started, causing his grip to shake loose. If people were capable of just standing there, all they would see would be a young Reploid, flying off into a cycling vortex, screaming.

Elsewhere, the same thing was happening. Not just at the Maverick Hunter HQ, but everywhere, from the high-tech city of Megalopolis, to uninhabitable areas, such as the Pacific Ocean. While it may not seem as such a big deal, this caused powerful tidal waves to pick up, crashing into places that were already being beaten down by the sudden assault. Volcanoes, something that had to eventually be copied by the power of science, had arose from the said ocean and almost immediately began to erupt, causing molten rock to fly. Earthquakes began to pick up, tearing open the very Earth, and even cause both humans and Reploids to fall, and those who weren't as lucky sometimes where crushed as the the plates slammed back shut. It seemed that everywhere, disasters of all types where spreading, and no one knew what to do.

This day was the beginning of something which was later called, the "Elf Wars." Dr. Weil, a scientist gone mad, had stolen the Mother Elf from her containment and altered her original data, thus putting a 'curse' on her. Renamed the Dark Elf, Weil used her powers to take control of innocent Reploids and Mechaniloids alike, and then took control of military bases world-wide, enabling him to have full access to the most potent weapons ever constructed. However, his trumph card was the super power known simply as Omega--a Reploid that was considered to be the most powerful Reploid ever alive. It took a total of four whole years of endless fighting until Omega was defeated by X and Zero. But due to its incredible endurance, all they could do was blast it off into space, and exiled Weil from X's new utopia, Neo Arcadia... In fact, so many things had happened, no one was even certain what happened to Zero, as he silently disappeared after the whole ordeal was over with. And, with humanity on the verge of extinction, the world had to rebuild itself.

Five years later...

The world had finally gotten to a point where it seemed stable. Many of the worlds nations were under the watch of Neo Arcadia, where humans were protected, and peace prospered. Outside, while it wasn't as peaceful, both humans and Reploids tried to their best to make their habitat the best it could possible be. Like the bustliness of Vurious, for example: a city was that large, metallic, yet strangely the people who lived their prefered simpler things, such as walking to places, rather than using airships. It was truly a strange site, but it was what the people there considered to be their true home, and they weren't about to let some 'super-city' come in and act like it was buying their lives, despite the urges of any relatives that may have already made themselves comfortable in their new home.

In one such part of the city, the local pub had become a haven of sorts for wanderers, having no where particular in mind, just stopping by for a drink or two. Some gathered together for some chatting about the types of adventures they went on, others decided it would be best to have a game or two to see who truly was the greatest of the bunch. Nonetheless, it as quite a busy place, which suited the owner just fine.

"Hey, hurry it up already, boy!" he yelled, behind the counter. Starfighter emerged, with a tired look on his face. No longer did he bear a confident smile, and his armor was dull and dirty--not the original polish it once had. A few cuts could also be found here and there, but nothing too serious. Of course, no one ever seemed to notice. "Did ya clean all of the glasses?"

Starfighter gave a small nod. "Yessir, all of them are as clean as clean can be."

"Good, good," he said, smiling. "I'm glad I hired ya, son. Listen, I have to go sign some stuff, so I want'cha to take over. Got it?"

"Sure thing, boss. But, uh..." Starfighter scratched his head, "What do you have to sign?"

All he got was an audible sigh as he was handed a wash cloth, and the old Reploid trudged upstairs, a place that was off limits to the rest of the pub. Shrugging, he made his way behind the counter and began wiping a random glass to pass the time. It had only been five years since the Elf Wars had ended, but it sure did seem it was a lot longer to him. He hardly remembered the incidents before that, with him training to become a navigator for the Maverick Hunters... Of course, he still had 'the gift.' It was just impossible to find someone that actually needed such skills. So here he was, working at a bar. Giving out his own sigh, he then noticed something different from the usual line up of Reploids that came here... but he couldn't put his finger on it. Scanning the room, he eventually spotted a lone figure in the back corner, covered in brown rags. the only thing that was visible were his white gloves, and the bottom of what he assumed to be completely black boots. Something about the rags, however, lead him to suspect he had a weapon of some sort, such as a saber, attached to his back.

"Hey, who the heck is that?" he turned to no one in particular.

The Reploid just gave a brief glance and shrugged. "He just showed up today. Someone tried talkin' to him, but he just ignored 'em."

"Hmm, I see. Thanks." The Reploid just went back to paying attention to his already empty glass, as Starfighter decided to have a little chat with the mysterious stranger. Walking up behind him, he paused briefly, wondering if he somehow knew that he was coming. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he cut straight to the point. "So, who're you?"

And then the waiting began. He just stood there, waiting for an answer from the cloaked man, who didn't even acknowledge that he had been asked a question. Waiting longer, he saw that he had actually started drinking a glass of scotch, which proved that he was correct in his assumption. Getting angry he took a step forward.

"Hey! When someone asks you a question, you should be courteous enough to answer!"

"Hmph..." was what he got. "I don't tell anyone my name unless I know who I'm talking to..."

That dumbfounded him a bit. He hadn't expected that as an answer, really. After all, he just wanted to know his name. But, in order for him to actually know him, he would have to hang around with him, but then he'd have to know who HE was so he could do so. Boy, did his head sure hurt from that logic, especially after he decided to say it twice in a row. Trying to get around that, he quickly said, "The name's Starfighter," in a bragging sort of way, for some odd reason. "Now, you?"

Of course, he didn't get a response, as the man just continued to work on his drink. He was then handed the empty glass, and was waved off, as if he expected him to just give him a refill and be on his way. Not wanting to get on his bad side, he quickly walked back and pulled out a bottle of scotch and poured it, and then came back post-haste. Politely handing him the glass, he then put a hand on his waste and tapped his boot lightly.

"Are you going to answer me?" he finally asked, getting impatient.

There was another moment of silence. By then, Starfighter was getting tired of it, but before he walked away he heard him mumble, "Just stay back... I don't like dealing with strangers..." From that he concluded that he obviously didn't get out much... or he did but isolated himself from any form of real life. Either way it wasn't good for holding any sort of interesting conversations. The rest of the day was pretty much like this as well, with some people coming and going, save the mystery man. Eventually, the owner came back down, looking refreshed.

"Rake in any cash while I was away?" he asked, as if desperate.

"Eh, the same amount we usually make," Starfighter answered, still not being able to get the mystery man out of his mind. Then pointing at him, he spoke, "Say, you wouldn't know anything about that guy over there, would you?"

"Hmm?" he looked over there to see the pile rags, moving every so often. He tried to think of some people who could possibly fit that description, but nothing came. "Nope, don't recognize him at all. Why ya ask?"

"Oh, heh heh... It's nothing, really," Starfighter laughed to himself a bit. "I was just curious. That's all."

The bartender just shrugged his shoulders as he left to take his position back, relieving the the young Reploid. Walking to the back room, Starfighter was just about to open the door when he heard a loud crash. "It's... a bomb!" He heard someone yell, causing not only him, but the rest of the people within to go into a state of panic. Doing the most logical thing, Starfighter got into the room and slammed the door, just as the bomb went off. However, it wasn't an ordinary bomb, as it released a strange, yellowish gas. Puzzled, the Reploids were eventually consumed and soon felt like they were being turned inside out, making most of them clutch their heads in agony as they slowly crumpled to the floor, helpless. Not being one to just let something unanswered, Starfighter cracked the door slightly open and peered outside after the screaming had stopped. Before he could do anything else, though, he heard someone go "Yeehaw!" and in the blink of an eye around twenty different Reploids had made their way in, knocking down the door.

"Heh heh heh..." one laughed. "So, boss, y'like?"

The head honcho, a tall, lanky Reploid stepped out of the crowed and peered out over what they had obviously done. "Eh, not bad. Not bad." He said aloud, putting one long hand over his brown eyes. His armor was mostly red, with some brown gauntlets and boots, and his face was about as long as the rest of himself was, with a small, round nose in the middle and a headful of brownish-red hair, his side burns stretching their way downward. He had a big old grin on his face, one that made it obvious that he was up to no good. Not wanting to be seen, Starfighter didn't move an inch, as his own eyes followed the figure as he stepped up toward the bartender.

"Hey there, partner," he said, sounding almost as if he were an old friend. "I'm gonna be nice about this. Just tell us where you keep the money, and we'll be on our own, little way."

"Hah, like I'd tell ya!" the owner barked, still in pain, and unable to move. "You gotta be low, attackin' some bar and askin' for money like that!"

His reply was a kick in the face. His head knocking up against the wall, various bottles fell from their places and crashed, one even striking him on the head, knocking him senseless. Before he even had a chance to recover, his face was met with his boot again, but this time it was softer, just so he could press on it, sandwiching his face in between both the wall and the foot. Starfighter could barely hold back the gulp that wanted to go down his throat. He didn't even notice that he had started to hold his breath.

"Fucking bastard." The boss spoke, angry, but he still retained the grin. "You have no idea who the Hell your messing with."

"Hey Jack, shouldn't we--" one lackey spoke right before being struck across the face, leaving a red hand print on his cheek. "W-what the heck was THAT for!"

The grin had faded at that point, as Jack fixated his gaze cigarette he had put into his mouth, and lighted it. Turning his attention back to the man he struck, he casually spoke, "The name isn't Jack anymore, bitch." They all just stared at him, confused. "We're gonna be going places, see. And because of that the leader--which is me--is going to need a more memorable name than just 'Jack.'" He paused for a second, as if thinking of something that would be at least a little intimidating. "No need to be fancy, though. I'll just settle with Jackle. Jackle O'Riely, that is."

The guys just looked at each other and then back to their leader. "Uh, no problem, boss." One said. "Yeah... Jackle is an awesome name!" Another agreed. Eventually they were all talking amongst themselves, about the name change, and so Starfighter, who had finally realized that he was lacking oxygen, finally opened his mouth to exhale. No one heard him, except one. With a sharp turn Jackle had kicked the door that Starfighter was behind with so much force it caused it to go sailing across the small washing room, crashing into the wall in back, leaving the boy out in the open, with a blank expression on his face.

"Well, well! What do we have here?" he grinned again, pulling Starfighter up by his hair. He then grabbed him by the shoulders, and pushed him into his group of thugs, which they immediately grabbed. He then walked up to him, leaned forward and blew some smoke in his face, causing him to cough, as he said "How much did you here, punk?"

"Bleh... not much..." Starfighter admitted, truthfully. All he knew is that they were robbing the bar and that the leader renamed himself. "Seriously, you guys shouldn't be attacking such a small place. I mean... it's just lame."

"Hah! Did you guys hear that? He thinks that its lame!" Jackle laughed, which in turn caused everyone else to roar as well. Then, he immediately stopped, and everyone copied. Messing his hand through Starfighter's hair, he said roughly, "Don't you worry your pretty little head over it, son. This was just a little warm-up for the day. We have much, much bigger targets on our list!" Then, walking away, he signaled for two of his guys to come with him, as they made their way up the stairs. His voice could be heard up above: "I'm just gonna take a look around here, see if I can't find a safe of some sort. If I don't, well, I'm just gonna have to kill all of you."

That left about ten other guys with Starfighter. He realized that he was all alone, since no one else could help him. That is, until one of the guys made a small notice. "Hey, what the heck is that thing?" He questioned, pointing over to the Reploid in rags, who was still seated. The gang looked at each other, not understanding how someone could not have been affected by the gas. The biggest of the bunch, not fearing anything, stepped away from the rest as he made his way towards the mysterious person.

"Hey, for all we know, he coulda just frozen like dat," he said while walking away, sounding like quite the typical muscle head. Getting up behind him, he peered over him, just to make sure that he wasn't do anything. When he saw that he was doing absolutely nothing, he smiled to himself as he put his hand on his shoulder to spin him around. When he did, he earned himself a cold, dead stare as a massive sword was pulled out and sliced him right through the torso, making him fall in two, dead. The others, shocked to what just happened, quickly snapped out of it as one of them took a step forward and yelled "GET HIM!" Suddenly the remaining gang members charged, their weapons drawn.

Not wasting any time, the figure grabbed his cloak and tossed it off into one of the faces, causing him to reel back before prying it off his face, just to be met with the body of another member, whose limbs were sliced off, slam into him. Another member pulled out a giant hammer and swung it, but due to its overall slowness, he missed and had a sword thrusted into his gut, instantly killing him as well. Then, shaking the body loose from the sword, he swung it behind him, bashing it into another Reploids face, making him go flying to the ground. The others weren't as stupid, however, as they jumped back and pulled out their buster cannons and began firing rapidly. Taking it as a sign, he jumped and grabbed onto a light fixture that hung over them. Not wanting to him get away, they moved their fire onto the fixture right when he jumped off, causing it to crash and land on two of the Reploids, and another was sliced straight down the middle when the mysterious Reploid landed. Now in a state of panic, one of the members tried to run, but was hit in the back of the head, as the sword was treated like a throwing axe. Pulling it out of the dead skull, he turned to watch the last two run up after Jackle. With a sigh, he lowered his sword so it gently touched the ground, and turned to Starfighter.

"You okay?" He finally said.

"Y-yeah... I'll be fine..." Starfighter could only stutter. He was amazed at what just happened. "That was really..."

"It was nothing," he said darkly, walking away, his pure black armor having whatever light that was still left bounce off of him. The mask, which covered his face, only added onto to his mysteriousness. The most notable features were the little flip on the back of his helmet, and his giant, wider-than-it-was-long sword. Starfighter realized then that it seemed that even with the rags off he still didn't reveal much, as he slowly started making his way up the stairs, his sword swung over his shoulder. Then, something came to him.

"Wait!"

He stopped and turned, an eye closed. "Hm?"

"Just..." he was trying hard not to stutter, "Just who the heck are you, anyways?"

And yet another moment of silence occured. The man's eye expression did not change, as he refused to even blink, as did Starfighter. Then, he turned around and started to walk back up the stairs, almost making Starfighter want to cry out in frustration. "Snyde. That's what they call me..." he heard him say as his boots finally disappeared from his sight. His mouth immediately dropped in surprise, not expecting to really get an answer. But, before he could congratulate himself on a job well done, he heard one of the innocent Reploids groan, making him realize he needed to get help. Taking one last look up the stairs, he ran out of the building in search of someone to find.

**To Be Continued...**

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Author's Notes: If you haven't already guessed, this takes place after the Megaman X series, but waaay before the Megaman Zero series. My idea was originally to create some things that happened behind-the-scenes, and it was a video game idea. Of course, I needed an excuse to kick off the 'real' Megaman characters, so I used the Elf Wars as my tool (heehee). The setting, however, was supposed to be Trigun-like, so you can imagine it was hard to get down... Of course, I have so many different ideas from other anime/video games that the only those two will be the real eyecatchers, since it they all blend in well enough to be considered unique, if you can call it that. Anyways, please read and review! The forums I am also posting this at only has earned one review, even though I just posted chapter three there. Updates will come whenever I finish another chapter, or if I just feel like it. 

Oh, and if any of you remember a slightly stupid Megaman IX script made by me... well, just forget that you ever saw it, since it sucked and I deleted it. >:O


	2. The Mysterious Snyde

**-Aftermath-**

Chapter Two - "The Mysterious Snyde"

When Snyde reached the top of the stairs, he wasn't that surprised that the two idiots from before attempted to ambush him. Taking a simple step to the side, however, one completely missed and fell all the way back down, while the other got a swift kick to the gut, KOing him. Of course, he made sure to push him down the stairs as well, just as a reminder. Then, making his way down a relatively short hallway, he neared the only door visible and put his ear next to it, so as to listen...

"Hm, well, looks like the old guy likes to protect whatever junk could possibly be in this thing," he heard Jackle O'Riely say, sounding bored, "Cheech, why don't you blow this sucker up for us?"

"Hee hee, sure thing, boss!" another squealed, followed by a large explosion, almost causing Snyde to fall. Then, hearing them grab various objects and whatnot, he made his entrance my taking his sword and slicing the door in two. He spotted Jackle, a small, greenish-yellow Reploid he figured was Cheech, and another one of the lackeys--A well-built, grey armored Reploid who wielded an axe, who also happened to have such a bored look on his face, he wouldn't be surprised if he fell flat on his face to get a little shut eye.

"W-what!" O'Riely sputtered out, "Just who the heck are you? Where are the rest of my men!"

"Playtime is over, Jackle," Snyde spoke quietly, barely audible. "I'm going to destroy you..."

"Heh heh heh... Hah hah hah hah hah!" he laughed manically, his eyes bloodshot, "You idiot! You can't defeat me! Cheech! Naba! Get rid of this guy!"

Cheech and Naba both got in front of their boss, not looking like as if they were just about to give up and go home. Pulling out a couple of small hand grenades, Cheech tossed some Snyde's way, as he nimbly rolled to the side, just be met with Naba's axe, barely blocking it with his own sword. Trying to build enough strength, Snyde eventually pushed Naba back, only to get assaulted by more bombs. This time, however, Snyde used his sword as a shield once again and deflected all of the explosives so the went back at Cheech. Unfortunately, he had prepared for such an occasion as ran right past the bombs, getting out right before they blew, and attempted to sucker punch Snyde, followed by another mighty swing of Naba's hammer. Not wanting to be taken for an idiot, Snyde grabbed Cheech's arm and pulled it out in front of the axe, cutting it off in one stroke. Oil splattered everywhere as Cheech reeled back, crying in pain at the loss of his limb.

"Bastard!" he yelled, "How DARE you do this to--"

He was quickly cut off as Snyde grabbed his head and threw it down, where his face met his knee. Sprawling back, Cheech slammed his back into the wall and slipped, banging his head on the ground. There was no time for a victory celebration, though, as immediately after Snyde found himself barely being able to dodge the rampage of Naba, who started chasing after him while swinging his giant axe like mad. Pressing himself on the wall behind him, he waited for Naba to swing as he jumped out of the way, watching the axe get embedded in the wall, unable to come out. However, instead of getting angrier, Naba only gave a lazy smile as he revealed to fire bullets from his gauntlets, like a machine gun. Snyde's eyes bulged as he then had to carefully dodge all of the bullets, which he did shockingly well. Then, with a giant leap, Snyde flipped himself upside down to touch down on the ceiling and then jump off again as he used his sword as a shield to block the bullets, and then rammed himself into Naba, knocking him back into the sharp handle of his axe, piercing through his armor. He stared at it for a minute it, blinking at the curious sight of why his own oil was covered in it, until he realized what had happened and then deactivated.

Snyde only put his sword back on his shoulder, as he looked at O'Riely from the corner of his eye. O'Riely, of course, wasn't taking it well. "You... you! Those were my two best men! How the heck did you beat 'em like that!" He started breathing heavily, from perhaps that he had to fight, or that he couldn't contain his own fear. Snyde only chuckled.

"This is your own funeral, friend!" Jackle screamed, not wanting to back down. Only getting more chuckling, he charged, and did a flip over him, landing on both feet with a confident grin plastered on his face. Then, pulling out a buster cannon, his smile grew as he said "You've got not no chance."

From there, he started firing non-stop. While Snyde had no problem dodging the attacks, he noticed something strange--the blasts being used were fully charged, and yet he didn't need to wait nor did he show the usually signs of someone charging an attack. Confused, he only continued to dodge the shots, trying to keep his distance away from the lunatic.

"I see you like my little ability!" Jackle sneered. "State-of-the-art buster cannon technology... Soon, it's going to leave a gaping hole through your head as a mark!"

Snyde only tsked as he leaped out of the way of another attack. He had to get away... Of course, this didn't go unnoticed, as O'Riely eventually started edging himself closer, trying to bridge the gap as he continued blasting.

"Oh, what's the matter?" he taunted, "Are you trying to run away? Are you going to be a little chicken?Bwak, bwak, bwak, bwak!"

Snyde didn't say anything as he took another small jump back, bending back to dodge another shot, and then did a small flip to the side to dodge yet another one. Then, his sword in hand, he waited for the next shot to come as he swung at it, making the plasma bounce off of the blade and fly toward the ceiling, leaving a slight burn mark where it struck. Snyde then used his sword as a shield to deflect more shots, making some head toward Jackle's way. Jackle responded to this by taking short jumps out of the way and continue with his assault.

_I've gotta get passed that stupid shield..._ thought Jackle angerly. _I guess what I'll do is try to get around him... with my superior flexibility, this should be pretty easy! Heh heh heh..._

Making his move, Jackle started moving to the left, causing Snyde to follow him, and move into a better position. However, his back was no longer next to the wall, leaving him more vulnerable. Not wasting any time, Jackle broke out into a full fledged front flip and landed in back of Snyde, who had just reacted to turn around. Firing like crazy, O'Riely beat Snyde down, causing him to go to the floor, on his knees. Getting up close, Jackle pointed his buster to his head, smiling with a cigarette in his mouth. He was positive that he had won, after all...

"Well, well, how's it feel to be on the losing side?" he crowed, happy about his victory. That is, until Snyde took the flat of his blade and whacked him upside the head, making him land on the nearby desk, spilling any contents that may have remained off it. Looking up, he saw Snyde lift him by the neck and shake him violently, barely able to spit out "Just how the heck..." He wanted to know how he moved so fast, as he stared at the dark, evil-looking figure before him, but just couldn't get the words out as his mouth just hung wide open in both fear and shock.

"So tell me, idiot," Snyde snarled, "What's it like being a complete loser?"

Since he knew that he was expecting a painful death, Snyde decided to change things up by just grabbing his sword with his free hand, stare at it, then his target, before pounding his face in repeatedly with the handle. After every pound Jackle's face got slightly more black, and slightly more blue. By the time he was done, his face looked as if he had been shot by multiple paint guns, directly in the face. In disgust with the man, Snyde just dropped him on the floor, figuring he would be too dazed to think, let alone get up, and started for the door. What he didn't expect was that Cheech had immediately sprung back to life and clobbered him with his own detached arm, knocking him down.

"You bitch! Bitch, bitch, BITCH!" he screamed over and over, and stomped his foot while he cursed. "NO ONE does this to our gang! NO ONE!"

With a small push, Snyde flipped himself back up and promptly smashed the pitiful Reploid's face yet again with a headbutt, making him drop like a rock, obviously dead from the fact that his nose was now pointing inward. A couple of teeth and some oil were found, oozing out of his mouth, proving anyone who had any doubt from this fact. It wasn't over yet, however, as Snyde was clobbered yet again, this time by Jackle, who dropped the smug smile and was now wearing a nasty scowl. Tossing the broken steel chair he had used, he pointed his buster cannon directly to the side of Snyde's skull, who was on his knees, and pushed on it slightly.

"You just had to ruin everything, didn't you?" he spoke, his voice slightly quivering. "You just had to interfere with us. Well, with this, I'm going to put an end to your nonsense! Goodbye!"

Snyde actually closed his eyes, waiting for the plasma to burn through his head, ending his life in what he figured would be a matter of seconds. He wasn't certain if such a death would hurt or not, but he honestly thought just what would happen to the rest of those people down stairs. But, all he could do was wait. And wait... and wait...

"Freeze!" he heard someone yell.

Fluttering his eyes open, he looked up to see a Reploid police officer pointing his own buster directly at Jackle. Getting impatient, O'Riely pushed Snyde's head down with even more force, making it almost touch the ground, as if threatening, "Do it and he dies!" That, of course, was his first and last fatal mistake, as he started focusing more on the police. Not wanting to miss his big chance, Snyde forced himself up and knocked the buster cannon out of his way and punched O'Riely in the jaw, dazing him slightly. Right before he had a chance to recover, though, Snyde sliced the tip of the cannon off, deactivating it. Before he could even realize what had happened, the police had entered the fight and slapped handcuffs on him, and began carrying him away.

"Hey... what the heck is this!" he paled by ten different shades, as he was pushed out of the room. "I can't go to jail! I've got my rights...!"

Following them a little after, Snyde was saluted by a fairly small, mustacheod Reploid outside. "We here, as both the police and the citizens of Vurious, would like thank you in helping us finally capture the notorius O'Riely Gang. We are forever in your debt."

"Hmph, I didn't do anything..." he mumbled. "I just killed some people."

"Well, I'll have to report that, unfortunately... but still, I think I can let you off if you promise to just leave the city," he suggested, his mustache lifting to show that he was smiling.

Looking at him for a quick second, Snyde wondered why he was being let off easy, but decided not to press on it. "Fine by me. But, how did you know--?"

"Hey!" Starfighter ran into the room and panted slightly, trying to catch his breath. "Man, I had to run EVERYWHERE... I didn't think I'd ever stop... Sure glad I made it on time though... Are they all right?"

"Mm," the officer gave a small nod, "Of course, we wouldn't have succeeded hadn't it been for mister...?"

"Snyde," he decided to reveal himself freely, just this once. "Snyde the Shadow..."

"Yes, Mr. Snyde saved everyone, despite the amount of damage done..." he trailed off, before realizing that both he and Starfighter had vanished. Straightening his belt buckel, he sighed. "People today... they just don't know how to give any proper respect!"

Starfighter had followed Snyde as he slipped in the backways, behind the pub. He saw him put his sword on his back again, and he had his old rags, rapped around his body, concealing pretty much everything that was already concealed again. To him, it looked as if he was going to make his leave, so he decided to pop the question that had burned into his mind the moment he first laid eyes upon him.

"...You're leaving," he pointed out obviously. "If it wouldn;t be a big deal, could I possibly tag along?"

He got the usualy, empty gleam of Snyde's eye. "No. I like to travel alone..."

"Oh, come on! I can be useful!" Starfighter almost pleaded. Then, crossing his chest, he added, "Besides, from what I heard, if I hadn't gotten the police, that Oriely guy would've blown a whole straight through your head."

"Heh, true. I probably deserved that hole as well..." he said, sounding a tad sad. "Still, my answer is final. A kid like you would only get hurt..."

"Man, you don't know what I'm capable of," Starfighter walked off, upset. He was really hoping that by following Snyde, he could somehow reveal his navigation skills. It was then he figured that the only way that was going to become possible was if he worked even harder for it. Once the owner got better, he planned to confess his feelings on what he really wanted...

Snyde only watched as Starfighter stormed off, definitely not looking all that pleased. He didn't really know any better way of driving him away, though. But, it was enough of that. He wished then that he hadn't given his name, since word of the damage he had just done would reach the ears of the ones he hated and despised most. It seemed that no matter where he went afterwards, they would be there anyways, so trying to hide was out of the question. Deciding to just head on to the next town, as if he had done nothing different, Snyde gave one last look in the direction of where Starfighter had went, before walking away...

"The grim reaper... is always after me..."

Back at the pub, Jackle was thrown into a police car. Taking a quick look around, he noticed two of his lackeys, looking not only quite startled at what just happened, but also looking just like how he looked--a mess. They were all covered with bruises, cuts and blood... Of course, it really wasn't all that surprising. They had just gotten their butts handed to them by some completely random stranger, over half the guys they hung out with were dead, AND they were going to jail. Life wasn't exactly looking good for them.

"Boss, what're we gonna do!" one whined.

"Relax!" Jackle clenched his fist and smiled broadly once again. "That guy... Snyde, I think they called him... He's just askin' for it... But Jackle O'Riely XIII never gives up! His days are numbered, just you wait!"

"But... how are we gonna get outta jail...?" the other blubbered, on the verge of tears. "And since when were you the thirteenth?"

There was a small silence between the three of them. The officer, who had finally found out where Starfighter and Snyde went off to, jumped in and turned the motor on, almost seemingly acting like a switch for a lightbulb, as Jackle at that same exact moment got an idea.

"I've gotta plan..." he spoke quietly, ignoring the last question, "One that shall go down in Reploid history!"

**To be continued...**

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**Author's Notes:** Woo, got another chapter up! All that aside, I have to comment on some things, just to give a small insight on what lies ahead. This story... isn't going to be short. I plan on making it VERY long. But, for the sake of actually making it longer, I decided to throw in some random chapters after this, and then get the main plot a little later (this was partly styled after Trigun, after all). Not like it's that bad, really, as the next few chapters all have a golden moment when you finally are able to read 'em. Hopefully, I'll get around to putting it up soon. 

Also, thanksfor the(one) reviews! I really appreciate it. ; I was taking another look at the rating system though, and I might bump it up to 'M,' considering that this isn't just making references to violence and some slight swearing.


	3. Promises

**-Aftermath-**

Chapter Three - "Promises"

"Damn it, Snyde. You went off and did it again..."

A rather short man, only being 5'2", wearing a very tidy looking business suit, was slowly shaking his head as he looked down, his bald head reflecting the light off of it. Looking back up, he stared at Snyde, who in turn looked off into another direction. He gave out a small sigh before continuing, "You can't just go and destroy whatever gets in your way, do y'hear?"

"Phh," Snyde didn't need to hear the same speech again. "Just what the heck was I supposed to do, Tog? Just let them go and ransack the place, and possibly kill everyone? Knowing you, that probably would be a great idea..."

He saw his 'friend' narrow his small, black beady eyes on him. "Look, I've told you once, and I'll say it again if I must." Getting an audible sigh, he almost cracked a smile, but continued to bear a grim look. "Every time you go off and kill a Reploid, blow up a building, or even just knock down a street sign, you end up--"

"Costing the insurance agency money," Snyde cut him off, noting Tog that he did in fact listen to him.

"Well... yes. Exactly," Tog cleared his throat, a little caught off guard. He decided that it was time to show how serious he was, however, as Snyde obviously just didn't care. "But that doesn't mean its a go sign for you to do such things, damn it!"

Snyde was a little surprised at Tog's sudden burst of anger. He had been known to be a rather friendly, understanding fellow at most times. What was more surprising was him pounding his fist on a small table, causing the vase next to it to rock back and forth, almost daring to fall and break. It didn't go unnoticed, however, as it gently stopped by the same hand that moved it. Giving yet another sigh, Tog looked at Snyde wearily.

"Look Snyde, all I'm asking is for you to stay out of trouble for just once. Is that so much to ask?"

It was then Tog received the usual silence that was bestowed upon everyone. He knew that if he didn't nip his tendencies in the bud, though, that it would just continue. Snyde just looked off down the hall, as a young woman stepped off an elevator and walked down the hall. His moment of peace was broken when he heard Tog yell "Snyde, look at me. Look at me!" He quickly snapped back into reality as he faced the short Reploid again. He just didn't know what to make of this guy.

Tog walked back and forth, his arms behind his back. "Day in, day out. You destroy, we pay. Do you know what that means? It means we're wasting MONEY. At this rate, we're going to have to find a new source of currency! Do you honestly want to do this? Just what is the point of such nonsense!"

"The point," Snyde said coldly, "is that if I don't do anything, you'd end up having to pay for damages anyway. So why not."

"Grr, just promise me this, Snyde," Tog pointed a finger at the shady Reploid. "Stay out of trouble; a while at least. You'd do us all a favor. You'd do ME a favor. Okay?"

He didn't get an answer, as Snyde got up and made his way toward the elevator. Taking a few steps toward him, he called out, "Snyde!"

"...I'll think about it," and with that, he slipped away, the doors shutting themselves between the two.

There was a long silence from Tog, as he just stared at the cold, metal doors, lifeless. Out of everyone in this world, he probably knew Snyde more than anyone else, yet even he knew that there was more to him that just some guy who always seemed to get into trouble. He couldn't quite put his finger on it... but he had a feeling that eventually, one day, he'd do something important that would be beneficial. All that he could do was hope that it involved him listening to his latest piece of advise and do something else for once. Tog then let out a big yawn, and got into the elevator himself as he pressed down to the first floor. He had a long day ahead of him, with filling out papers and forms and whatnot... And he had Snyde to thank for it.

Outside, the sun still shining and beating upon Snyde's well-polished sword and armor. He had thrown away his cloak, since it was considered 'uncool,' when he reached Tagechi, the neighboring city of Vurious. Just like Vurious, it was large and bustling, but it was much, much busier. Cars flew over head as he traveled along the ground, something that few humans and Reploids ever did nowadays. It was then he noticed a large group of people standing before a glass window. Curiosity getting the better of him, he stepped up to them to see what they were watching. He realized that it was a couple of 'video monitors,' or how he liked to call them, television sets. These were sleek in design, however, as they were round, and as flat as a pancake. The only possible way to actually hold one up was by either attaching a stand to the back of one, lean it up against something, or hang it on a wall. Currently, the monitors were playing the news, something that never caught his interest, that is, until the broadcaster said something that immediately caught his attention.

"Last night," she began, "A police car was destroyed in the city of Vurious. Apparently the Reploid suspect took two of his own partners and destroyed them up, creating an explosion which allowed for him to escape. All residents in both Vurious and residing cities are to take extreme caution among anyone who resembles this..."

A picture of Jackle O'Riely lit up on the monitor, his twisted smile apparent. Snyde clenched his fist as he saw him, angry that he got away. He knew that someone like him would try and get some sort of revenge, and now definitely wasn't a good time, with the insurance agency on his case and all. Fortunately, he didn't know of his current location, so if he just continued to move away, he would eventually lose him, and would then make it his best interest to forget all about him. In any case, it wasn't the time to be worrying, as he snuck away from the crowd, and back into the shadows.

He had reasons to be in Tagechi, other than to just get yelled at Tog, today. While he was in Vurious he had overheard about some man, who was capable refining weapons, in this city. Before bumping into Tog, he had managed to gain enough information that his name was Sasuke Aihara, and that he lived in the lower regions to keep to himself. If he could somehow improve his blade, then he would be an even greater force to be reckoned with. He had heard, however, that the man wasn't very friendly, and would more than likely brush him off without even a thought. Also, it was suggested not to try and force him into doing it, since he'd just end up screwing the weapons up instead of refining them.

In a matter of minutes, he had found a steel door, covered in rust, grim, and anything else that was particularly nasty, and he tried to open it to no avail. Getting frustrated, he kicked the door, which ironically caused it to swing off it hinges and crash to the floor. Looking past it, he saw a couple of wooden steps, which he carefully went down, for instances of his weight and for rotting. Meeting a concrete floor after about fourteen steps, Snyde looked around, finding a dull light to the east of the empty room. Making his way toward it, he stepped in something... rather icky. He wasn't even sure what it was. Continuing his way toward the light, he was embraced by it, and there he saw a man--a human--laying in bed, snoring. There were beer cans littered about everywhere, making Snyde realize that what he stepped in was a tipped over can of the stuff. Looming over the man, he watched as he snorted himself awake, and stare at him with one eye open.

"Huh...? Wha?" The man blinked, confused. "Who the Hell are you?"

"People have been asking that lately," Snyde noted. "The name's Snyde. I'm guessing you're Sasuke Aihara."

Sasuke lifted himself up, just so he could slouch over. Rubbing his eyes, he replied, "Yeah, so what if I am? I've never heard any Snyde, so you might as well just get out of my face."

"I heard you can refine weapons," Snyde, pulling his sword out, continued. "I want to know if you can do the same to mine."

"Eh..." Sasuke mumbled, running a hand through his messy brown hair. He then flopped back down and closed his eyes. "Nope, nothing I can do. Thanks, have a nice day. Bye-bye. Get out."

It was then Snyde felt a flashback coming. He was in the pub at Vurious, right when he had entered. Walking up to the counter, he sat down and ordered for a glass of sake. Holding the cup by both hands he heard a couple of guys next to him talk discuss about their next plan of action...

_"So, we can all go to Tagechi, and visit that Sasuke Aihara guy,"_ a small, jester-like Reploid suggested. _"He could improve our weapons I heard."_

_"Bah, I heard that Aihara guy is so detached from the rest of the world the chances of him doing such a thing or slim to none,"_ another piped, a gorilla Reploid.

_"We could still check it out,"_ a woman spoke,_ "If he refuses, we'll just force him. Simple as that."_

_"D'you know why he's like that?"_ the bartender asked, not having anything better to do. He immediately caught their attention as they looked at him. _"His mother died when a couple of years ago... It was a little over two years after the Elf Wars, now that I think of it. Anyways, she died in a bombing attack from a gang that lives over their, a ruthless bunch that wouldn't mind killin' their own mommas for some quick cash. It was then he just decided that doing what he did wasn't worth it, 'cause he got it into his head that all weapons would just be used for killin'. If you were to ask him for some assistance, and he declines y'all, don't bother tryin' to force him to do it... he might just make your weapons worse in anger."_

All Snyde did was get up with a bottle of sake and walk off into the corner, to ponder. Losing a loved one was a hard thing to live with, but for him, it only meant the one must move on to become stronger emotionally. It did no one any good to just to sit down and mope. Of course, he had been declined of an opportunity to get his weapon upgraded, and then young man just stared at him. Snyde felt disgusted suddenly, that he couldn't stand to see this sad man before him.

"I see," was all he could say, finally putting his sword back. "Well if you decide to ever get up and do something with your life, feel free to tell me."

He heard a "Meh," and that was all. Turning to walk away, he took one last look as the human dozed off, snoring loudly once again. To say the least, he was very much disappointed, but it wasn't like it was the first time he had been treated to the point where he just wanted to rip someones face off, and shove it back down their own throat. He wasn't even certain it was possible to refine a blade at such a level as his, and so it wasn't really too big a of deal for him. Perhaps if he felt like it, he would try again later, but first, he needed to find a pub...

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

In another region, on the outskirts of town, a Reploid was staring at Tagechi through a pair of binoculars. Viewing multiple points, such as banks, malls, and any other places of high value, he marked them all on a hand-made map, and put the binoculars away. Running behind a large boulder, he hopped into a small, green Ride Chaser, with another man sitting in the passenger seat, wearing a pair of shades.

"Well?" he asked, "Anything worth mentioning?"

"It's all right here on this sheet, bro," the younger of the two scratched his head with a pen. The two looked exactly alike, from the trench coats, spiked hair, and sunglasses. They even had a small tattoo on the left side of their necks, depicting a scorpion. Only thing that set them off was that the younger one had brown hair, while the older one had blue hair. "Fifty-four banks, seventeen shopping malls, and thirty-five different jewelry stores, among others."

"Hee hee, excellent!" he jumped up in seat and pointed, "We're off! Let's go get us some loot!"

"But, Chan... there are only two of us," the brother stated.

There was brief moment of silence as the wind blew, picking up Chan's trench coat and letting it flow freely. Sitting back down, he frowned and said, "Idiot! Don't you know that quality beats quantity? And believe me--we've GOT quality. Just follow my lead and everything will be all right, Chen. We don't need the others for this, 'cause we're better than them. Got it?"

He didn't say anything as he started the Ride Chaser, causing it to lift up off the ground, and they took off and blinding speed into the city. Their first stop was a bank, as they went in and shot up the whole place, and ran out with bag fulls of zenny. They repeated this strange process with four more times, and by the fifth time they expected the police to show up, which they did. Chan prepared, grabbing a bomb and throwing it at the police, setting off a blinding ray of light, effecting everyone except the two shaded brothers. They then ran in and stole as much as they could, and threw it into their already-getting-stuffed trunk. Needing a place to hide the money, they flew down and entered an open door, throwing money down some unlighted stairs.

"Once we get everything we need," Chan said while they were throwing the bags down, "We'll come back and get these babies. No need to go back and forth to our place."

"Hey, what the heck do you guys think you're doing!"

"Huh?" the two brothers said together, looking down the stairs. Sasuke had walked back up, a bag of zenny in his hands. Chan nearly freaked as he snatched the bag up and hugged onto it tightly. "W-who do you think you are, taking my money!"

Sasuke only scratched his head. "What're you talking about? I live here, dumb ass."

That set off Chan real quick, as he dropped the bag and pulled out a pistol, pointing it at Sasuke's head. Being like any other normal person, Sasuke's eyes widened in fear, not wanting to die. He was shoved face first up against a wall, feeling the tip of cold metal on his scalp. "Chen! Hurry up and throw those bags down there! I don't want this guy trying anything funny!"

"But Chan..." he was cut off as Chan fired a round in the air, scaring both him and Sasuke. He quickly started throwing more bags as he cried out, "Yessir!"

"Listen pal, you don't want to do this."

"Shut up!" Chan yelled angrily, firing another plasma bullet. "The next bullet I fire will be at your head, got it!"

"He didn't say anything. I did."

Chan turned around abruptly as he realized the voice was behind him. Snyde was there, his arms crossed, towering over him. In a panic, he tried to fire at him, but his face suddenly met his boot, and Chan went flying into the Ride Chaser, putting a huge dent in it. Chen could only look as he dropped the two bags he currently had, his mouth wide open. Getting back up, Chan pointed accusingly at his attacker, shards of his glasses now littering the ground.

"How DARE you attack me!" he screamed, "I'll make you pay for this with your life! Chen, get him!"

Chen only blinked as he turned to look at his brother. "You're kidding, right?"

"OF COURSE I'M NOT!" Chan's face turned bright red while he continued screaming. "I am not in any condition to fight! So you, as my brother, must avenge my defeat!"

"Chan. Bro. Buddy," Chen tried to understand him. "You're starting to scare me. Calm down. Let's just take him out together!"

That idea was ill-fated, however, as Snyde grabbed them both and bashed their head together, knocking them out. Wiping his hands, he turned to face Sasuke, he just stood there, speechless. Walking over to him he pulled out his sword yet again to let him have a look. Carefully, he let him have the handle, although due to the weight it ended landing on the floor, just inches away from his feet. Inspecting the blade, he put his hand on his chin and thought, getting lost in deep concentration.

"And...?" Snyde asked.

"Those two guys..." He eyed them, solemnly. "Those marks on their necks... they were a part of the gang that plagues this city..." he said, managed to blurt out, not knowing what to do. He sighed a bit. "I suppose I could tweak it as thanks, for not only my life, but..." He trailed off, and attempted to lift the blade himself, but found that he couldn't due to its heaviness. "You'll have to help me get it down stairs, unless you've decided that you don't want my help?"

Accepting quite willingly, Snyde let Sasuke take the sword for customization after setting it on a small, steel table downstairs. Unfortunately, he was not allowed to watch--Sasuke didn't want his 'legendary skills and secrets' to be revealed. Not having anything else to do, he made his way back up stairs and saw that the two brothers were still unconscious. Since they still posed a rather small threat, Snyde just signaled for someone to go get the police. When they finally came, however, he had already left, leaving both of the brothers to wake up to quite the surprise.

The next day, Snyde made his way back to where Sasuke lived. The first thing he noticed was how Sasuke was standing outside, actually managing to weild his blade with no sweat.

"Ah, just in time," Sasuke almost laughed, "I am rather proud of my work on this baby. I was actually capable of making it twice as light as it originally was, not to mention I gave it a special coating which will allow to not absorb plasma, but to reflect it instead."

"Hm, thanks," was all Snyde could say as he pulled it away from him, and swung it around himself. It was indeed lighter... much lighter than he had ever imagined it.

"No problem," Sasuke said, waving the compliment off. "Hey, Snyde. Tell me. Just what are you going to use that sword for? Is there something that's going on that I--no, everyone--should know about? You can tell me, man. After all, when people see that sword at work, their going to be asking you who helped you with that, eh, eh?"

Giving his trademark silencers, Snyde only shrugged as he stared to look at the morning light. "...I guess I keep it in case for emergencies. That's all..." Getting a slow nod from Sasuke, he knew that it was enough to satisfy his questioning, as he looked to see the sun, and shielded his eyes. Taking it as his que to leave, Snyde made his way out of the alley. He hoped that he made Tog happy--if he felt like it, he could have killed those two morons. Since his work was done here, however, he had new goals in mind, though what they were not even he was quite certain yet... he only knew that he'd figure it out when the time was right.

"Ciao, Snyde," Sasuke muttered under his breath, and with a stretch and a long yawn, he went back inside to get himself a beer, and then go to sleep. "Yeah, ciao... and good luck."

**To be continued...**

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**Author's Notes:** Woo, this one was fun. >>; This is probably the only chapter out of the bunch so far which hasn't hada real fight, instead it was a bit more comical (or whatever you people like to think of it). So yeah, another chapter wasted, forcing all who reads to wonder when exactly the point of this story shall actually surface. Well, it may not seem like it, but it is reaching the point. Verrrrrry slooooowly...


	4. Deadly Challenge

**-Aftermath-**

Chapter Four - "Deadly Challenge"

It was a new day for Snyde, as he was getting ready to leave Tagechi. Well, it wasn't quite a 'new day,' seeing as how it was night, but to be perfectly honest, he couldn't stand the noise. He prefered places like Vurious; large, but all around quiet. Or, just spending his nights by himself, alone in some artificial forests. Speaking of which, he could never quite understand just why they had artificial forests. He often wondered just how humans got they're oxygen. Perhaps he would have to ask one day.

Currently, though, his destination was Tagechi's infamous transportation system. While the city has its own Transervers, pods that could transport practically anything from one server to the next, just like other towns, Tagechi also had Rideservers, where people could actually drive state-of-the-art Ride Chasers to get to one city to the next. All it took was one simple contract with the far away town of Mejak to perform this little experiment, which proved to be a huge success. Of course, there was the chance of someone trying to steal the 'Chasers, and so a barrier was put up so no one may try and get away. While he would usually never use ANY sort of transportation, new things had always intrigued Snyde, and so he decided to give this a go. Not to mention... he wanted to get away from that psycho, Jackle.

Shuddering at the thought of having to fight someone as deranged as that or even those moron brothers, Snyde climbed on board a ramp, and went inside the Rideservers' entrance way. Few people were here at this late at night, and so it was the perfect time to snag one for himself. Walking up to the receptionist, he put an arm on the counter and waited for the lady behind the glass window to talk first.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, sounding bored.

_What a dumb thing to ask..._ Snyde thought. Why else would he be here? "I want a Ride Chaser. To Mejak."

"That'll be two-thousand zenny," she absently replied.

Grunting a bit, he pulled out a wallet from seemingly nowhere and tossed the money her way. Taking it, the lady reached over to grab a card key, and handed it. "Down the hall, third door on the left. You can't miss it."

Not even bothering to say thanks, Snyde walked away, and down the hall. First door, second door, third door... Finally opening it, he came to a large room, where the Ride Chasers were found. He blinked in confusion at the sight, however. Every single space was empty, with only some old man mopping up the floors. Not wanting to be left behind in the news of what just happened, he slowly approached the man, and scratched his head.

"Uh, where are the Ride Chasers?" was all he could manage.

"Hmmmm?" the old man looked up, and blinked. "Oh, oh, the Ride Chasers? They're all gone, yep. All gone."

"What!" Snyde freaked, restraining himself to not grab and shake the man senseless. "But then why did I get a key for a Ride Chaser!"

"Let me see, let me see," he answered, snatching it away and looking at it. "Ah, you've got yourself a Ride Chaser 'Zoomer' model. The ones I was referring to were the Ride Chasers, 'Blaster.' Yessir, I did."

"Okay, then where is it?" he asked, taking the key back.

The old man motioned his arm. "This way, this way! There's only one left of the Zoomer models as well, so your in luck, you are." He took him to a door and put his hand on a scanner, confirming his access and allowing the two in. Coming up to a rather beat up looking machine, Snyde almost wanted to cry in frustration. Of course, he wasn't like that, so he just continued to throw questions out at it, like 'if it was sturdy enough' or if it 'could actually work.' Getting confirmed multiple times by the janitor, he just sighed and hopped in, inserting the card key to turn it on. Thankfully, the old guy was generous enough to open the door that lead to Mejak, and he took off.

He had to admit, even if this Ride Chaser was an older model and was a lot more beat up than most 'Chasers used for Rideservers, he rode pretty well. Still, it wasn't like he actually KNEW how he compared with others, since as mentioned before, he had never used a Ride Chaser before. Nonetheless, it was a safe ride, but he couldn't get his mind off of those missing Blaster models. There were around forty different spaces in that hanger, which meant that something was up, but he just didn't know what.

Trying to get the thoughts away from his head, he decided to ponder about the recent events of the world itself. Five years ago, the Elf Wars, the most devastating war ever brought forth on humanity, had ended, but the amounts of casualties were astounding. Around seventy percent of the worlds Reploids were destroyed, and about ninety percent of all humans were eradicated... And then Neo Arcadia slowly helped bring the world back to order. While everything seemed fine and dandy where he had been to recently, he knew that there were still many places that looked like a war zone. Mejak was one of them, and that's why they took part in Tagechi's Rideserver project--for money. Needless to say, it helped greatly, but from what he had heard it still wasn't enough. He had heard that in time Neo Arcadia would eventually just take Mejak as its own, and build upon it, expanding onto its already large space. While he found it kind of the government to look out for other cities in need, he didn't like how it was growing so quickly. Already it took Hereloff, the largest known city in the world, and it was even bigger than that know. It would only be a matter of time at this rate... something that freaked Snyde out. He prefered to live life his own way, free from all boundaries. He only stopped by places if for a reason; other than that, he was on his own. Lately however, he had been finding himself within city walls, and so he promised himself that Mejak would be the last stop before continuing on with his random wanderings, his destination no where in particular...

A little after an hour, Snyde spotted a highway-like structure up ahead. Noting that it was indeed within the barriers boundaries, he made his way over and across it, before picking something up on his radar, coming in from behind. Before he had time to react, a Ride Chaser had pulled up and begun ramming itself into him. It was then he finally saw that he was surrounded by dozens of Ride Chasers, and realization that these guys were the ones who took off with the newer models became apparent. Growling a bit to himself, Snyde was ready to retaliate with some of his own attacks, when another 'Chaser pulled itself in between both him and his target. A buff Reploid popped out, showing off his physique by not wearing any armor from the waist up, and laughed.

"Well, well, well!" he had a slightly sickening sound to his voice, like he had smoked one-too-many cigarettes. "It looks like the fish just grabbed onto our bait, boys! Now we'll get our revenge for what he did to Chan and Chen!"

Snyde only coughed a bit. He noticed how he had the same tattoo on the side of his neck; the one of the scorpion. He knew what the deal was. "Revenge, is that it? Well then, I'll be more than happy to kick your asses as well. Those two got it easy anyways."

"Hah! The party has only started!" he turned to call out to the other 'Chasers. "It's time to teach this damn punk a lesson!"

With that he hopped back inside and took off ahead, leaving Snyde alone with some forty other machines, surrounding him. They all slowly began to close in, and he began to think on what he could possibly do. Running out of time, Snyde did the only thing he could do--take his Zoomer and start ramming into the cars on both sides of him. Also trading blows, the vehicles all started to show signs of damage, but Snyde was taking it the worse. At the rate he was going at, he would be finished before he took out even one of those Blasters... and not wanting to go out in such a humiliating way, he turned on the boosters and shot forward, plowing right through two of the attackers, making them flip over and blow up. Sighing deeply, Snyde knew he wasn't out of the water yet, as his radar went off like crazy as four more Blasters caught up from the rear. Slamming on the breaks, Snyde did a complete 360 turn, slamming into two of the vehicles, making them spin out of control and crash into a couple tailing them. After regaining control, he noticed three more vehicles boost past him, to catch up to the apparent leader of the group.

_If I get rid of him..._ Snyde thought to himself, _Then they should stop attacking... Hopefully..._

As if they all heard him speak out loud, more Blasters came up behind, and started to inch closer to reaching his sides, some even bumping into him. Angered and frustrated, Snyde slowed down to the point of almost stopping, causing the Ride Chasers in back to crash and flip forward, landing on their backs. Taking off again, the Snyde sped toward his goal as fast as he possibly could. However, a large explosion to the side of him made him lose his concentration and swerve violently, before regaining control. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that one of the Blasters had fired a small ball of explosive energy at him, thus explaining why they were called Blasters. He then saw another, and another, and he made it his personal business to dodge every single attack. The attackers started getting closer to their target, and were soon only a few inches away. When he saw one of the balls explode almost directly in front of him, Snyde withdrew his sword, now meaning business.

"Oh, what the heck is he gonna do?" one of them mocked. "Hey, fire another one!"

That was a terrible mistake on their part, though, as Snyde took a swing at the ball of plasma energy, deflecting it and knocking it back at them, ending it with a large explosion. Keeping his sword as close as possible, he wondered just how the heck those guys were capable of taking those Ride Chasers without raising suspicion. His thoughts were ended quickly as yet another plasma ball flew past him, making him use his quick reflexes to dodge. Then, preparing for another shot, Snyde blocked it, only to see that they had come prepared by firing another one into it, blowing it up. They obviously didn't count on the two combined would make an even larger explosion, however, as it swallowed them and a few more Riders up.

"Get him!" he heard a few voices behind him. "Don't let him get away!"

_Like they'll catch me..._ Or destroy, more like it. _The way I'm going right now, this will take forever..._

It soon became a little game of hot and cold, as more Blasters fired explosive plasma, and it became his duty to either dodge or deflect. Sometimes if he was lucky, he was capable of actually knocking it into a 'Chaser behind him, but other than that he just forced them to dodge. This played on for quite a while, with Snyde slowly but surely catching up. As much as he hoped, he did not go unnoticed.

"Hey, get rid of that damn guy!" the buff Reploid screamed at the 'Chaser beside him. The driver confirmed by slowing down, getting next to Snyde almost immediately.

_Oh, great..._ he thought drearily as he was rammed yet again, getting knocked right next to a ball of plasma. Quickly returning the favor, Snyde slowed for a quick second, right when the vehicle attempted another ram, just to get caught from the incoming blast. Desperately, he boosted, getting right behind the closest Blaster that he could reach. Bumping slightly, the two riding turned around, dumbfounded, as yet another plasma energy bomb came--landing in Snyde's car.

"God damn it!" he yelled, jumping out of the car as it blew, and landed on the one ahead.

Still a little confused as to what happened, the driver could do nothing as he was grabbed and tossed out, screaming. Sitting himself down, Snyde looked out of the corner of his eye the passenger, who smiled sheepishly, and then jumped out as well. Resting his sword in the passenger side, Snyde swiftly dodge all in coming attacks, and then shot forward, edging closer and closer to his target. Pushing a few buttons, the cannon attached to the front of the 'Chaser fired a bomb of plasma and made direct contact with a car, sending it sky high. Barely able to contain himself, Snyde went off and fired to more volleys, and with that blew up the last two cars protecting their boss.

_Time to finish this..._

As ready as he could possibly be, Snyde boosted forward, wanting to fight this up close. Coming up next to the lead car, he waved to them before repeatedly slamming himself, pressing them up against the wall. Sparks flew as the boosted, flying out of the trap, but had smoke coming out from the engines, black and thick. They soon slowed down and were head to head yet again, however, and they began to fight back.

"Dog!" the muscle man screamed, almost in his ear. "You will pay for all of these insults with your life!"

"Hm, so now we're gambling with life and death?" he hummed to himself. "Very well. Allow me to be your executioner."

"What! You..."

It became an all out contest, to see who could ram into each other more. They continually traded blow after blow, and while the Mr. Muscle had started off behind, eventually Snyde's Blaster began showing signs of damage and exhaust. Wanting to finally put an end to this, Snyde pulled behind him and accelerated, smashing the engine, which was obviously in the back, in. Flames began to erupt as Snyde pulled himself back next to them, giving a dead stare.

Veins started popping out of his head as he screamed in frustration some more. "Damn! Just how could some little... punk, do this to me!"

"Punk? Is that the best you could come up with?" he toyed, finding it amusing to get him all worked up.

"Why... why, HOW DARE YOU!" his voice echoed throughout the ears of all the members, most of them wondering just what was happening. In rage grabbed the driver, and tossed him at Snyde. Not having any time to move, he watched as the helpless driver crashed into the side of the car, his body snapping immediately in two. Sliding down, his lifeless body rolled down the highway--which was coming to an end--before getting run over by a Ride Chaser that didn't see it coming.

"Hah hah hah, how d'ya like that, huh!" the man laughed, taking the wheel.

There was nothing said, as Snyde stopped finding anything about the whole situation funny. Wanting some space between them, he slowed down a bit, allowing the muscle to get out front a bit. He then turned on what was left of his boosters and did another 360 turn, slamming both the front and back into the other Blaster, completely taking out the front of it. Starting to freak out, the man began to fall back, shaking his fist in anger as the other 'Chasers past him. Snyde, one hundred percent satisfied with what he did, used up whatever was in his boosters to get away, the others turning back around to get their boss.

"Idiots! All of you!" he almost cried. "He's getting away! Go on, get after him!'

"Uh..." one tried to speak, pointing at the machine behind his leader.

"What! Out with it!"

In response, the Blaster blew up, sending him flying, landing face first in the dirt. All of the men jumped out of their vehicles to help him back up, despite his pleas and protests to go after "the cowardly dog."

Back on the road, Snyde couldn't help but get agitated by the beeping of his low energy tank. Pounding on the control panel a few times, he calmed himself down and traveled with no other problems. It continued like this all throughout the next day, as he couldn't find it in him to sleep, in case he was attacked again. The morning sunlight beaming on his face, it almost hurt to squint, as he was forced to drive like that the rest of the way. Finally, he reached the end of the road. Tired and exhausted, he came to a sudden stop as he nearly fell trying to get out. Stumbling along a bit, some mechanics came over to help him get out of there, and took him to a medical bay. Lying down, he closed his eyes, and went silently to sleep...

"Just what the heck happened to that guy?" One of the mechanics asked another.

"I dunno, but whatever it was, it sure looked tiring..." remarked the other.

"Hey, do you think, well," he tried to get it out, "It has to do with that large cannon attached to the Blaster?"

"I don't see any other connection," a nurse came in, with a clipboard. "Didn't you know that a group of thugs had just recently stolen some Ride Chasers? He probably ran into them and had to fight for his life, the poor guy."

There was some silence between the three, before the nurse sighed and continued.

"Anyways, when he wakes up, leave all of the questioning to me. Understand?"

"Yessir."

"Good," he smiled and took a bow, leaving the room with them.

Opening an eye, Snyde smiled beneath his mask. He realized then that in Mejak, good people still existed. Maybe he would stay a bit longer than he had hoped... If he got to skip the questioning.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I loved this chapter. While it was a huge debate if I should have given the 'leader' of that gang a name, I decided not to, mostly since the chances of actually seeing him again is slim to none. And so, Snyde pretends to sleep on. His destination? To get out of there before the questions start flying. Next chapter will bring about showing the worst after effects of the Elf Wars. Knew that the title would one day actually show footage of what it meant. :P 


	5. Influences

**-Aftermath-**

Chapter Five - "Influences"

Snyde walked aimlessly down the streets of Mejak. Deciding to have only a couple of hours to sleep, he snuck out of the medical bay and made his way down the dark streets. He couldn't see very well, until the morning came, lighting up the sky. Taking a look around him, he finally got a look at what the town of Mejak was truly like.

To put it in kind words, it was a mess. Most of the town, which like Vurious and Tagechi was made of metal, had been replaced by cheap, rotted wood. People, children no less, littered the street, wearing nothing but torn clothes. Some didn't even have clothes. If anyone wanted to see a place where the Elf Wars influence had been greatly affected, this was definitely the place to be. Right then, however, Snyde was in desperate need of a drink. Stumbling along the filthy streets, he opened a door into a pub. It seemed fair enough, with bar stools and tables. Grabbing a seat, he put a hand on his face and muttered, "I'll have a glass of sake."

"Comin' right up," the bartender replied, and quickly poured a small cup, handing it over. Snyde pulled his mask down and slugged it, slamming the cheap tin on the counter. He had to admit, that the people here were pretty friendly. A lot friendlier than he would ever expect. It almost made him feel bad for ditching that nurse back at the Rideserver... almost.

"Hey, hey, did you hear the news?" a Reploid behind him was having a small chat with another.

"What?" the other asked.

"Chester joined that searching party..."

"Damn, him too? Soon this whole town will be looking for that girl."

"Yeah, but I suppose its not all that bad. Whoever finds her will get payed big bucks by her pop."

"Him! Shoot, we'd better get started then. That opera freak is **loaded**!"

That was enough to get Snyde up, tossing a couple of zenny on the counter. Trying to act casual, he strode out of the place, still slightly thirsty. But who could pass up an opportunity to make some quick cash? Even though he had a miserable time, that Ride Chaser wasn't cheap, and he needed to go back on the prowl for some more money. All this meant was for him was a chance to get out there and do something.

First on business, finding the opera fanatic. He had gotten some wind that there was an opera house on the outskirts of town, and he had to find it. Now, he was no pro at finding stuff, but he guessed that the opera house would definitely NOT be in the same direction of the Rideservers, which was to the east. Instead, he went to the west, and noticed a slight change of scenery. Namely, there was construction going on, and the buildings looked less shabby. And there were less sad, gloomy faces too, and that was always a good thing. It appeared that Mejak was slowly but surely coming back, but it still didn't relieve him of the fact that Neo Arcadia would be coming soon. Neo Arcadia...

Soon it became apparent that the house was the only structure that was away from everything else. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that the building itself was decorated with vibrant colors, as if an artist had come and went absolutely crazy with his paint brush. In front of the doorway he saw a middle aged human pacing about. His small mustache and blond hair, while it looked as if it was originally well kept, had been messed with, as it had fallen apart more than likely his own hands, which were now behind his back. He wore a suit and tie, which made Snyde realize that he must have been someone of importance there.

"Oh dear me... Dear me!" he was sweating profusely. He occasionally pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead, and he was slightly pale, almost as if he hadn't slept for days on end. For a second he stopped and cried, "Whatever will I do? What if she's hurt? I'd never be able to live with myself!" He then went back to his constant pacing.

Figuring that he was the guy, Snyde approached him, just a little too casually. "Hey, are you that opera guy?" That apparently struck a nerve as he received a deep scowl, all of the wrinkles on the man's face apparent.

"Opera guy! I am Quisar Holdurm, the one and only!" he gave a brief overlook, "And just who the heck are you?"

"Feh, if that's the way your going to treat me," Snyde started to walk away, brushing him off, "then I'm not going to help you."

"Oh! Wait, please wait!" he grabbed him by the wrist and turned him around. Giving a deep sigh, he bowed. "I am terribly sorry, sir. My daughter was kidnapped... And I have been on the edge ever since."

"Kidnapped?" Snyde questioned him. "I heard she just ran away."

"Hah! Ran away? My poor, sweet little girl? Nonsense!" he scoffed. "I happen to have a letter, right here. Read it if you must."

More than willing to, Snyde took the envelope and stared at it. What a strange way of communication. Most people, despite how badly their town's condition was, still used computers. Unfolding the paper inside, he also noticed that it was written in pen, a very fancy handwriting at that. All that aside, he started to read the contents, which contained:

_My Dearest Gloria,_

_Today, you shall be mine. I will be coming for you in the morning. And with that, we shall be wed in the most suitable of all._

_-Flachion_

Snyde put the letter away, and handed it back. "How old is the letter?"

"Oh..." Quisar suddenly got paler, and put his hand on his forehead. "It was a week ago... My poor Gloria... she's probably already married to that barbarian, Flachion!" He began to pace again, this time even more frantic. "Flachion, that Reploid cur... he stole her in the middle of the night! My life is ruined!"

He then started to cry. Feeling pity for him, he put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Listen, stop crying. I'll go get her. Where does this Flachion mostly hang out?"

There was a moment of silence, something that Snyde found quite odd since he did not start it. Quisar opened his mouth as if to say something, but promptly shut it. Taking the opportunity, Snyde began to wonder just where could this... Flachion, have possibly of taken a girl without getting any kind of attention. He knew that some people were searching for her around the town, and quite possibly on the outskirts, but it probably wouldn't be enough. Still, he waited for Quisar, and after a few minutes Snyde began to tap his foot, impatient.

"Well?" he asked, finally.

"I don't know!" he whined, lifting his head to cover his eyes, sobbing. "I never bothered myself to follow him around! All I know is that he loves to make an entrance... Perhaps if your lucky, he'd show up during an opera performance..." He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his nose, before crying hysterically again. "Oh! But it no use! With her gone there would be no reason for him to ever return! All hope is lost!"

"Hm, opera," he pondered on that. "Never watched the stuff." It was then he crossed his arms, and started to go into some deep thought. "Yeah... it's a shame that letter doesn't help at us all..." He closed his eyes to help concentrate, but quickly snapped them back open. "Wait a sec. Maybe there is some sort of clue that can help us out. Lemme see that letter again." Re-reading the letter, he pointed his finger and shouted "There!" Quisar leaned in to see what he was looking at. "'And with that, we shall wed in the most suitable of all.' He'll be coming back to the opera house to marry!"

"What! No way! No way!" Quisar yelled, angry. "Just how do you interpret that? And if it is the truth, then why hasn't he gotten it over with? And furthermore, if this is the truth, then how dare he insult me and my family!"

"A place suitable for all," he began, "means that its somewhere they can both agree on. Obviously, Gloria would want to come here, since you run the place. Flachion would follow to make her happy. My guess in why its taken so long is for preparation issues."

"P-preparations, sir!" he nearly choked out.

Snyde shrugged. "Yeah, after all, you said he likes to make an entrance."

"T-that's t-true..." he stuttered, slowly taking in all of the information. "I can't believe you figured it out this quickly, though. You must stay and wait for him! I beg of you!" He began to pull on his arm, on the verge of crying yet again.

"Okay, okay. Relax," he shook him off. He needed his arm where it was. "When does the next performance start?"

Pulling out his watch, he gasped as he declared that the next show, "The Fantasy," had just started. The two bolted through the main door, up the stairs, and right up into an unoccupied balcony seat as they began to observe. For Snyde, the show itself was actually rather interesting, singing aside. It dealt mainly with two opposing groups, the empire, who wanted world conquest, and the other, some small organization, to protect the innocent, battling it out. In the end, however, both sides completely annihilated one another. By the time it was over, both Snyde and Quisar had realized that Flachion and his bride-to-be were not coming any time soon.

"So... what do we do?" he asked rather stupidly.

"Now?" Quisar looked at him, as if begging. "We wait. There's one more performance today. If he doesn't show up then, you'll have to promise me to come back tomorrow!"

"Uh..." Snyde started to trail off, but caught himself. "...Do you show the same exact thing?"

"For only a set amount of time. We'll be showing the same performance for all of this week."

He sighed. "Great..."

The next show started an hour later. Quisar didn't lie as it was exactly the same as the last one. While Snyde did in fact pick up some more things that he missed the first time, he grew bored fairly quick, and started to nod off. After the performance had ended, it was nighttime. He was offered to spend the night at the opera, which he was more than willing to oblige. The next day, he sat back down with Quisar and watched "The Fantasy" for a third time, not even interested in it. By the fourth show, the only thing that was capable of keeping him awake was constantly being shook to have an eye out for anything suspicious. Four more days went by like this, and by the fifth, he had given up all hope.

"...Quisar."

"Hmm?" he hummed. It seemed to him that he was drinking heavy amounts of coffee so he could stay up. "What is it, sir?"

"If Flachion doesn't show up today..." he thought his next words carefully. "I'm going to leave. I can't wait around forever."

"Wha...?" he whimpered pathetically. Snyde could have sworn he saw a tear go down his cheek. "But... this is the last of the same shows! Honest! Just one more day..."

"And this is the last day," he cut him off. "I have other stuff to do. If he shows up, great. If not, then I'm out."

There was a pause of silence, and Snyde grew rather uncomfortable not liking to be on the opposite end of the treatment. Finally letting out a small sigh, Quisar lowered his head. "Yes, I understand, sir... I have been most selfish. My apologies."

"Forget it," he faced the stage. "Let's just enjoy this little show, shall we?"

"Ah yes, of course!" he nodded and smiled.

The two continued to watch "The Fantasy." As usual, Snyde began nodding off, though this time it was a bit later, around the second scenario. Vean, the greatest soldier of the empire, had just betrayed his own men, finally realizing that what he was doing was wrong, and joined the good guys. When had taken down his best friend, he was just prepared to stab him in the chest with his lance, when the lights overhead began to flicker. The crowd murmured, wondering what was going on, as everything went dark.

"What!" Quisar screeched, and started to tug on Snyde's arm. "Snyde, Snyde! Wake up! Somethings happening!"

"Huh... what...?" he mumbled. Rubbing his eyes, he blinked in confusion as he saw that it wasn't his eyes that weren't working properly. "What's going on here?"

"I think it's Flachion, sir!"

At that moment, a beam of light shot down on the center stage, blinding most of the people there. A rope then fell down, and man, with a large, dark-gray coat and long, black hair slid down, while carrying a young, blond-haired woman in his arms, who wore a white dress. He had many scars littering his face, the most notable being the long, wide scar that went right through his eye, the stitches on both ends crudely placed together. He also donned a black undershirt behind his coat, with some blue pants, which were torn from the knees, due to his large, nicked up boots.

The woman, while very lovely in appearance, had a sad look to her, as if she did not want to be there. She probably could have cried right on the spot, upon noticing a certain individual.

"Gloria!" Quisar had ran down from the balcony and made his way onto the stage, not carrying for the shows success.

"Father..." she spoke quietly.

"Flachion! You let her go this instant!" he barked at the man, who had a curled a small smile on his face.

"Quisar, you'd best be happy that I decided to come here," he said, a flow of elegancy behind his voice. "If it wasn't for me being so madly in love with your daughter, I would have married in a more... appropriate landscape."

"You idiot!" he yelled back. "You're obsession has ruined both of our lives! If you loved her so much then why the heck does she have a look of fear? Are you so lost that you can so easily neglect the one thing that truly matters!"

"And what would that be?" Flachion retorted.

"I believe they call it 'ones feelings,'" a voice echoed.

"What?" he frowned. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

Snyde hopped down from the rafters, directly in front of Flachion. Startled by the appearance, his grip on Gloria was let go and she ran for her father. He tried not to show his anger by keeping a straight face, only visible thing setting him off was the small vein throbbing above his temple.

"Who do you think you are?" he asked quietly, being polite as can be.

"My name is none of your damn business, kid," Snyde said flatly, pulling out his sword. "If you were smart, I'd tell you to leave now."

"Ah, a wise guy, eh?" he cracked a smile, seemingly pleased to be threatened like that. "I suppose you've never heard that I have trouble listening to orders..."

"Shame then, since you'll die," he clutched the handle even tighter, and narrowed his eyes. Flachion also withdrew a small dagger from under his long coat. It seemed that he had anticipated someone trying to stop him, and that's why he wore regular clothes instead of a tuxedo. The actors of the opera, realizing what was about to happen, took no time in deciding to make a break for the exit, dropping any props that they might have been holding at the time.

"Oh, might as well not ruin this..." Quisar said to himself as he faced the maestro and whispered, "Start playing some music. Make it hectic!"

The maestro nodded and signaled for the band and orchestra to begin playing. It was a fast, yet steady beat. A split second after playing, both Snyde and Flachion charged, clamouring their weapons upon one another. While some would assume that Snyde's sword would easily prevail over the small, insignifacent dagger of Flachion's, this was not the case. While the sword delivered a more powerful blow, it was heavier, allowing for many small jabs to be taken at him. But given its size, he was able to successfully dodge almost everything thrown at him. With only a few scratches, the assault continued.

"Hah, is that the best you can come up with?" Flachion mocked him, attempting another jab.

Snyde dodged and swung his blade. "A lot of talk comin' from a guy who kidnapps women."

"Bah," he scowled as he jumped out of the way. "You need to learn to relax!" With that he took out three more daggers and threw them at Snyde. Watching him easily deflect the projectiles, he whistled at his speed and repeated the process again.

Continually blocking the daggers, Snyde knew that he would have to go offensive soon. Still, he covered himself from yet another set before evening the odds. Sticking one foot out in front of him, he swung his sword behind him, and then lobbed at Flachion like a handaxe. Seeing the move being prepared before hand, however, gave ample time to dodge both it and the return strike. Snyde calmly caught his blade and stared his foe down.

"Looks like I've underestimated you," Flachion commented, withdrawing another dagger.

"Shut up and fight," Snyde commanded as he jumped with his sword extended. Smashing it into the cold metal under him, he grimaced as his gut met the tip of one of the daggers. Coughing slightly, he grabbed and removed it, tossing it at Flachion's feet. Now covering his open wound, Snyde grimaced as realization that he could possibly lose dawned on him. "This... looks pretty bad..."

"You just realized that? You're so hopeless," Flachion chuckled. "I think I'll allow the virus to do the rest of the dirty work."

His eyes widened at what he heard. "V-virus? Urgh..." Suddenly feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him, Snyde tried his best to resist the urge to close his eyes, knowing that it would be a fatile mistake. "What have you... done..."

All he could see was a small, evil grin spread across his face, before getting struck with three more knives. Not even capable of screaming, he collapsed to the floor, only able to watch as Flachion's footsteps grew ever closer. Funny, though, as he could have sworn that the music slowed to a low, heavy beat. It suited his current mood so well. In a matter, of seconds, with Flachion right on top of him, everything finally went black, and he could no longer hear the music, if it was playing at all anymore...

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Ahh, yes. Chapter Five was an odd one to write for me, personally. I couldn't think of a good name for the title of this chapter, that was capable of capturing whatever essense was within this piece. Also, I had something else planned... but I decided to save it for a little while later. I think it was rather pleasing in the end, after someslight tweaks here and there. 

And so, we have Flachion, who has kidnapped our beloved Snyde. Just what shall happen next? Stay tuned... the true plot of this little story is finally about to unfold...


	6. Killing Machines

**-Aftermath-**

Chapter Six - "Killing Machines"

A loud moan escaped down metallic hallways. It was dark, damp, and fairly cool there, wherever 'there' was, anyways. Lifting his head up, Snyde attempted to rub his eyes, but found that he couldn't, as he was currently shackled to the wall. Trying to break free from his imprisonment, he pulled and tugged to no avail, until he finally dropped his head back down. Apparently, he figured, he was still being affected by that blasted virus, the one Flachion had given him...

"...Flachion!" he finally realized that he must have been in his domain. Despite the heaviness that it gave to lift his head, he sharply turned to the left and right. "Where is he! Where is he!" Still nothing came, and he settled down. He couldn't believe that he had been so stupid as to have been defeated, and it didn't matter of the fact that he wanted to murder that cocky little...

"So, you're awake," he heard his voice ring, and his head shot back up. He could see him walking down the hallway, the shadows silently leaving, making him more visible. He finally stepped through the doorway, with his usual confident smile showing. "How do you like it? One of the world's few workable airships..."

"Spare me," Snyde spat, growling under his breath. He wasn't in any mood for games. "What did you do with Quisar and Gloria?"

"You wound me, Snyde," he startled him, knowing his name. He decided to amuse him. "After you fainted, Quisar couldn't stop screaming 'Snyde' this, and 'Snyde' that. It wasn't too hard to make the connection."

"You still have answered my question yet," he was met with a dagger touching his neck. He was slightly scared to gulp, thinking that It would allow his nemesis to 'accidentally' allow the knife to slip.

"You are in no place to be asking such things, my friend," he spoke grimly. Withdrawing his weapon, he began to pace the room. "Those two are fine. I let them be... since I have need of your assistance."

"Heh, you have some damn nerve, asking for my help after what you've done!"

Flachion turned his head to gaze darkly at Snyde, and then resumed pacing. "Fool, if you were to do this for me, I'd simply let you go, forget about Gloria, and be on my merry way." He faced him again. "It's quite simple really."

"Bah..." he lowered his head, not being able to take the strain on his neck. "What is it."

With a push of a button, the shackles snapped open and Snyde crumpled to the floor. Staggering back up, he grabbed Flachion's hand for support and then leaned on wall, panting heavily.

"And with that, you are now in my service," Flachion mused himself. "Try anything funny and you'll regret it. Come."

The two began to walk down the cold, damp halls. While Snyde was at a loss for where he was going, he knew that if he continued to follow Flachion he would eventually find the way. They eventually came to a dead end, with only a ladder going up. Hopping on, Flachion, motioned Snyde to follow, and he obliged, clamouring his way up. Opening a hatch, the two made their way outside--to the very top of the airship. It was breathtaking, actually. They must have been hundreds of miles up in the air. Even Snyde himself could easily allow himself to be accustomed to such a method of traveling, to rule the skies...

"Flachion, what is it that you want me to do?" he questioned, breaking out of his trance. "We were trying to kill each other a little while ago..." Just what could it possibly be?

He got a small sigh, and then a chuckle. "You really don't know?" He saw the blank look in his eyes. "Very well." He started to walk toward the edge of the airship, almost seeming suicidal. Pointing past a small forest, Snyde could see a large, factory-like building, releasing black smoke in the air. "There, that factory, is mass producing... something big. I want to figure out what it is... but I don't think I'll be able to make it alone."

"So, you want me to go in there, and figure out just what's going on?" Snyde didn't quite understand. Seemed like a waste of time to him. In fact, he would get that point clear. "Seems like a waste of time."

"Fool!" Flachion barked, but his voice was getting rather shaky. "If you weren't so stupid then you would know that... the Goldwall's are behind this."

"The Goldwall's?"

"Yes... the Goldwall's..." Flachion nodded solemnly. "They are, without a doubt, the world's richest family... Not even the effects of the Elf Wars hurt them... Lately, however, they have been buying out Reploid factories, reasons unknown. But it can't be good."

"So... we're going in here on a hunch," Snyde rolled his eyes, still obviously not buying anything. "Sounds like fun. When do we go?"

"We go now," he answered. His gaze broke when he turned to go back below. "Come, the sooner we get this over with, the faster you can get out of my face. Right?"

Growling, Snyde walked at a brisk pace. Sliding down the ladder, he went past the top floor, all the way down to the very bottom. Finding Flachion seated in front of a small control panel, he leaned up on a wall, his arms folded. He could hear the sound of typing, and felt the ship slightly turn. _What the Hell have I gotten myself into..._ Snyde wondered to himself. The Goldwall's? Buying out Reploid factories with no apparent reason? Motives like that weren't good, but heck, he still didn't know if he was doing a good thing. After all, he was teaming up with someone who had kidnapped an innocent woman. Not to mention he had uploaded a virus into his own systems. Oh, well, he was also planning to go suicidal one day.

Landing the airship in the trees a little ways away from the factory, the unlikely pair of Reploids set out. While the trip itself through the jungle was relatively calm, they had to swing around from behind to avoid the security cameras. The two mused at the general stupidity of guarding only the entrance, but still stayed on their toes, as they then took a running start and wall kicked on up, until they reached the end that had a door. Checking for any traps, they gave each other a small nod of confirmation before pushing the door open. Gently. Flachion took the lead as the two crept down the dark hallways. It was almost like a labyrinth, except they hadn't reached a dead end nor a trap... yet. It seemed to take an eternity to go from point A to point B, and Snyde soon lost track of where exactly they were going, and how long they had been at it. Then, going through another door, the two jumped back in surprise at the sudden spring of life that the machinery around them produced. Whirring noises and things that made 'kachink' sounds mixed together to create a small beat in the atmosphere.

It wasn't soon after they heard a voice from beneath them. Carefully peering over the edge of a railing, they spotted a couple of men talking about business of some sort, and they hid themselves. It was hard to hear from all of the other noise, but Snyde was certain he could make out almost everything...

"So, professor, I am taking it everything is going smoothly? You should know that tardiness is not smiled upon here," a young man, with light blue hair spoke. He was wearing a lab coat, and had his hands in his pockets.

"Oh, of course not Mr. Goldwall! We're working as fast as we possibly can, while still providing you the best of the absolute best!" the professor almost choked on his words.

"We are working hard twenty-four seven to bring the Reploids to completion," another piped in. "It won't be very long until you have what your father could only dream of. But... I still fear that we will need a few more days... The production of creating over hundreds of thousands of these manufactured Reploids is astronomical, to say the least."

"First off, call me Straight. The name Mr. Goldwall is not my title," he stated calmly, "Second, allow me to be the one to tell you that your wish on the extra days will be granted, but you'd better hope that it doesn't reach the ears of my father. He is not so gracious as I am. If he were here, he wouldn't mind just not only firing you, but to make sure that all of your loved ones suffered from, what he likes to consider, 'selfishness.'"

"Mr... Straight, we also would like to say that the modifications on Test Subject F has been completed. We are about to begin analysis. Would you do us the honor of joining us...?" the other scientist interrupted.

"I would, unfortunately I have far too much work to be done. Perhaps at a later date, that is, if this subject proves to be another failure," he said sympathetically.

They continued to chat for a while longer, but started to edge themselves away, making it impossible to continue listening in. Snyde and Flachion both sighed and nodded to each other before running down the platform. There was something here, and they needed to find it fast.

"So, that was one of the Goldwall's?" Snyde decided to ask.

"Seems like it was the son, Straight Goldwall," he answered. "He is the most well-known of the family, but even then there is something quite strange about him..."

Making their way ever downward, they eventually came to a clearing. Test tubes lined the the walls. Some were empty, others... well, other had something that didn't look that normal. It was clear that these were more than likely test subjects A-E that... well, didn't make survive. Trying to ignore the creatures, they went through the next room, which was filled to the top with Reploids. It didn't take much to noticed that the room was filled to the top with Reploids. They were all deactivated, but they were still Reploids, nonetheless. Nothing was all that special about them; in fact, they were all exactly the same. They were on the puny side, something that not even robots in the 20XX era had. They lacked any real armor, save what was on the gloves, boots and a gladiator-styled helmet. There were no visible weapons nearby, so it was lead it suspicion on just what there purpose was.

"Just what the heck are all of these things?" Snyde finally asked, not being able to handle the questions. "Those test tubes... and these Reploids..." He took one by the head lifted it to face him, trying to find something that wasn't there. "They look like Reploids, but they sure as hell aren't your normal kind..."

"That's because they're manufactured. That makes them all the same." Flachion stated all knowingly. "As for those test tubes... no clue." Something then caught his eye. "Hold on sec." He made his way to the back, and opened another door. "Ah, a computer. Excellent." Sitting down, he started it up and began to search for any information on the elusive Reploids. "Hmm, I'm going to have to check the computer logs for some info..."

He began to scroll through some files that Snyde would never be able to comprehend. "So, your a criminal and a computer genius... Right..."

"Bah, I'm not a computer genius... I just learn the basics. And I'm not a criminal," he punched in a few things on the keyboard.

"Then what the heck do you call yourself?" he snapped.

"I like to consider myself a lover of passion and romance..." he trailed off, getting a glare at Snyde. "Ah, here are the... logs? What the heck?" Opening a file, it simply stated that it was deleted. "Bah, what a nuisance... surely there's something still intact?" He started checking every file, always getting the same response. Snyde decided to make himself comfortable by propping himself up on the wall, watching the computer frustrate his 'partner.' It was until the thirty-second log that he managed to find something.

**August 24th, 22XX**

**:Unfortunately for us, all of our research had finally proven to be a waste. The money that had been put into our funding for so many years had finally gone down the drain, as our company had been sold the Goldwall's. Apparently, the motives behind this are currently unknown, however, we do plan to find out at a later date; presumably sometime next week. Now, before we are sold out completely, we are going to terminate any unfinished Reploids and AI programming, since it was deemed to be useless by their designs. It is a great burden that we must all carry, for everything must be restarted from scratch. We can only hope for the best.:**

**End Log**

Letting the information sink into their heads for a short while, Flachion eventually closed off of it and went back to searching. Snyde only pondered on this. Reploids and AI programming... terminated? That was like killing a baby while it was still in its womb, to him. No matter what the Goldwall's intentions were, that was just wrong, and he would see to it that they learned a valuable lesson about life.

"Damn it, it seems that whomever deleted the logs did a terrible job," Flachion sighed. "And the one that we found didn't help us any. We need to find out the truth..." He clicked open another and closed it. "Snyde, I hope your keeping a lookout for anyone that could be coming."

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Right," Snyde mumbled, and turned his head slightly to look out. It wasn't before long when Flachion said joyfully that he found yet another log.

**October 12th, 22XX**

**:Yet another experiment failed today, at 14:33:50. Both Test Subjects A and B have been officially dubbed "destroyed" and we will now begin with Test Subject C tomorrow. We are certain that with the Glochtorate that the Goldwall's have been able to provide us, along with changing the feeding and napping regulations, the results shall differ greatly. More info will be given at a later date.:**

**End Log**

"Glochtorate? What in the world is that?" This time it was Flachion asking the questions, as he rested his elbow on the table and stroked his chin. It was very interesting to him... after all, it seemed as if these test subjects were almost human beings... yet the end results look nothing like the sort. However, if this... Glochtorate... had some unknown effects, it could quite possibly end up leading to such a stage... of de-evolution? It hurt to think about it. "Well, best not worry about it for now." He silently closed off of it.

"Flachion, go ahead and search for what those Reploids over there are," Snyde urged him. While all of this was interesting, those Reploids were bugging him. It didn't event take that long this time, as Flachion had soon realized that the next one that was left in tact would never be right next to the other last one. Definitely a crappy job.

**December 16th, 22XX**

**:The Goldwall's ideas have shown great success in both Reploid design and AI development. While the original model, the Fighter series, was slow, clunky, and insufficient with only an average IQ of 185, the Goldwall's model, labeled the 'Rebel' series, has surpassed all expectations. While the design may seem to be lacking in defenses, studies have proven that it increases overall speed and agility, making it much more lethal in combat. It's AI level is also outstanding, averaging at 240 IQ points. They are definitely what the Goldwall's wanted them to be: The perfect killers. All that is needed now is to find a way to cover their low defenses, and we will be ready to prepare for Operation Heltz.:**

**End Log**

There was silence between the two as the log was closed out. Flachion stood up, while Snyde lifted himself away from the wall. They managed to figure out that the Goldwall's were mass producing Reploids to... attack Heltz, a Reploid-only city that had yet to merge with Neo Arcadia? Obviously, they had to stop this... people would die.

"Flachion, I hope you know what to do next..." Snyde spoke silently.

"Yeah... Let's do this. Now," Flachion agreed. The two made their way back to room housing the 'Rebel' models, only to hear footsteps. Hurriedly, Snyde grabbed Flachion and threw him behind a set of the blue and white Reploids, followed by himself. They watched as a shadow creep down the stairway, until a Reploid showed the connection with it. Snyde's eyes widened at just who it was.

"Well, well, what-do-we-have-here?" Jackle O'Riely whistled at the Rebels. Just like Snyde he took a good look at one of the faces, and then dropped it back down. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it were the Reploids that the Goldwall's had been putting money in to! That's a lot of money right there!"

He continued to pace back and forth, keeping a close eye on the front line. "The perfect warriors? Hah! I could easily kill them all right here with my power!" He pointed his buster at one of their heads, and then mouthed 'Bang.' Laughing at his own joke, he went down to the end and punched one square in the jaw, causing it land on a conveyor belt going down. "The fools! You aren't needed in this world! You'd be better off spit shining my boots!"

He started to walk off, laughing maniacally. Snyde clenched his fist harder, resisting the urge to run on over to him and resume bashing his face in with his sword. Getting back up, he noticed a piece of paper on the floor. Walking over to get it, he unfolded it and read 'You'll pay for what you did to me.' Slightly annoyed, he crumpled the paper up, and tossed it into the darkness.

"So, who the heck is that guy?" Flachion asked.

"Bah, some idiot named Jackle O'Riely... He's obviously pissed that I killed off most of his gang and ended up getting him arrested.." Snyde waved the question off. "It wasn't like it was my fault. He actually had me on the ropes..." It was then, that he started to hear a small beeping noise. Flachion heard it as well, as he turned to Snyde with a questioning look. Shrugging his shoulders, Snyde just said "I dunno what it is."

"No, not that..." Flachion muttered. "That sound is strangely familiar to that of..." The beeping began to quicken. Spinning around, he spotted a bomb attached to the helmet of the Rebel that O'Riely had grabbed. "SHIT!"

In the blink of an eye, Snyde found himself being shoved out of the room right as an explosion occured, sending him right off his feet. Debris fell as everything began to shake loose, and alarms began to go crazy. Over a loud speaker, a voice could be heard, repeatedly shouting "Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Begin lockdown immediately! Repeat: Begin lockdown immediately!"

"God damn that O'Riely..." Snyde clammered back to his feet, searching for Flachion. He was nowhere to be found. "Damn it! Can anything possibly go right!" He felt the ground below him slightly shake, and he new there was no time to waste. Racing back up the stairs, he spotted some guards blocking the way. Obviously they were a part of what was left of the Fighter series, given their armor design.

"Wha? Hey! You!" one yelled. "Stop right there!"

"Grr, not now you IDIOTS!" Snyde screamed, pulling out his sword and slicing them perfectly in half. The screams that they emitted while their upper halves went hurtling to the floor below the platform echoed in his mind, but he had no time to feel sorry for them. He continued to race down the halls, taking care of whomever he bumped into, which were of course, Fighter Reploids. He wasn't exactly certain where he was going, he was face to face with the Jackle himself.

"O'Riely! You bastard! You killed Flachion!" he screamed.

"Hah hah hah, silly little Snyde, you should know that I'll do whatever it takes to get my revenge. Even if it requires for me to break into the Goldwall's territory..." O'Riely gave him his cheap, sickening smile.

"Cut the crap!" he pulled out his sword. "I'm going to do what I should have done back at Vurious!"

"Hah! You mean how I had you on the ground?" he began to taunt. "In that case, bring it on!"

Snyde swung his sword down hard on O'Riely. While it seemed to hit, in truth he hopped out of the way at the last second, and brought his cannon and started to fire rapidly. Not being one to fall for the same thing twice, Snyde started to swipe at the blasts, knocking them every which way, and began charging. He was shocked to find Oriely had then grabbed his blade and kicked him in the gut, causing him to lose his grip. On the ground, he watched in horror as Oriely held it by one hand.

"Say... this is a pretty nice blade you got here, Snyde," he sneered while looking down upon him. "I reckon you wouldn't mind if I used it for a bit!"

With a backflip, Snyde was out of harms way, but now he had to deal with his own sword. He started to dodge blows to the best of his ability, but he eventually began to wear and started to get nicked up. Jumping back, he clutched his arm as it was just cut, and black, gooey oil had begun to ooze from it.

"Damn it, I hate repeating the same thing twice..." he cursed under his breath.

"Heh heh, with this sword... I can't possibly lose!" O'Riely exclaimed, smiling wildly. Leaping into the air, he smashed the sword down onto the cold floor, watching Snyde scurry away. "Yeah, that's right. You'd better run, coward!"

Pushing the door open, Snyde noticed the sun was shining on his face. He had apparently made it all the way outside, but it still didn't help the fact that some crazy guy who happened to have his sword was still chasing after him. With that in mind, he bolted to the right and turned to hide himself behind the building. He was going to do something crazy, and that was to grab his sword from such a pathetic hiding spot. A few seconds later, O'Riely had come out, searching for him.

"Snyde? Snyde, where are yoooou?" he called out innocently. He saw him run, but didn't see where he went. Taking a few steps forward, he earned a swift kick to the face. Sprawling backwards, he dropped the sword and put his hands over his face. "BITCH! Agh! God damn you! I hate you!"

Grabbing his sword, Snyde took it and slammed him upside the head with the flat of his blade. Getting sandwhiched between two very sturdy pieces of metal, O'Riely took a few steps back, clutching his head in agony. Still, that crooked smile of his never left his face.

"Hey, listen Snyde, I was only kidding. See?" he put his hands up and opened them, and dropped a bomb before him. Exploding, it released a large cloud of black smoke, and he disappeared. All that could be heard was his voice. "Sucker, let's just see you survive this!"

In the blink of an eye, a beam of energy wizzed past Snyde's head. Getting into a defensive position, Snyde put his sword up to his face as he heard more gunfire, but this time it was to the side of him. Turning, he barely was capable of deflecting a few shots, which bounced off and flew in different directions.

"Ow!"

Running through the smoke, he went face to face with O'Riely's buster cannon. O'Riely smiled smugly. "Got'cha." Before he could do anything, however, he just collapsed, a look of pain planted on his face. Snyde spotted three knives in his back. Jackle coughed, senseless. "Damn you... is that the only way you can possibly beat me? Getting someone else to do your dirty work... Just you wait... I'll have my revenge..."

"Snyde, c'mon already!"

"Flachion? You're alive!" Snyde stood there, speechless.

"No time, let's just get outta here!" he said while he made his way through the forest. In a matter of minutes, the factory had turned to a pile of ruins, and the two had reached the airship. Before he could get on, however, Flachion closed the door in his face.

"Flachion! You open this door now!" he yelled from the outside.

"I'm busy Snyde. I don't have time to help you out anymore," he responded.

"What are you talking about! I was the one who helped YOU!" he accused. "Just how the Hell am I supposed to get out of here alive!"

"Meh, figure it out yourself."

"Flachion! FLACHION!" Snyde almost felt like he was about to explode. The airship then took off, leaving Snyde in the dust. Flachion could only watch Snyde from the video camera as he stormed off. He bowed his head apologetically.

"Sorry, Snyde, but I've got other things to do, and you'd only get in my way..."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Straight Goldwall had a small smile on his lips as he watched the videotape at his families estate. He watched it many times, but he just couldn't get the images out of his mind. The mysterious black Reploid... who had teamed up with that Flachion to infiltrate and then destroy a small part of the Rebel soldiers... and then fought his way through the Fighter guards... He watched as the camera followed him all the way outside, and then bashed the other Reploid, Jackle Oriely, upside the head. It was quite interesting, not to mention entertaining. While the others were just as equally dangerous, more or less, he needed to keep an eye out on him.

Pulling out a folder labeled "Insurance," he thumbed through it with his brown gloves, and then stopped as he pulled out a sheet of paper. On the very front was a hand drawn picture of Snyde, and underneath stating that he would never sit still long enough for a picture.

"Snyde the Shadow... Interesting," he finally said, quite happy with his find. "I do believe I shall do something." With that, he left to go make a phone call...

To be continued...

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hmm... been a while since I updated this little piece. Don't get me wrong, I COULD have, but I like to limit myself to posting a chapter only when I complete another. I still have plenty in reserves, in case I run into a major writing block. For this chapter, it sets the start of the main focus, and things shall only thicken within the next one. Will the Rebels (do not mind the odd similarity) destroy Heltz? Or shall Snyde prevail? And what about that Straight Goldwall? Not to mention Flachion and the reappearance of Jackle O'Riely. 


	7. The Sinister Plot

**-Aftermath-**

Chapter Seven - "The Sinister Plot"

It was a windy atop the mountain near the Goldwall estate. However, Straight didn't seem to mind much as he just seemed to stand there, waiting for something over the horizon. It had been a whole three days since his ordeal with Snyde and friends infiltrating his families factory, and he was unfortunate to be caught in the wrath of his father. Honestly, he did not like to upset him... since that usually led to a consequence of some sort. His was quite bad to boot, and he would much rather think of something else, like what was happening before him.

"So tell me... Flouse, was it? Are you and your men capable enough?" he spoke barely above a whisper, despite the noise of the wind.

Flouse, as he was so called, turned and bowed, his long bat wings retracted beneath his dark, black cape. He had dark blue fur, but had some black pants that ended at his sapphire decorated boots. His eyeballs, a dark black, had an ominous flare at his bright red eyes, with golden pupils. In a thick accent that was released from the only white fur surrounding his mouth, he answered plainly, "But of course, young Goldwall. We are at your service... That is, if the pay is good enough to motivate..."

"Ah, so it's the money is it?" he smirked, and glanced to the side to see eleven figures standing about, not even bothering to mind their own business. They stood attentively, ready for anything. "Very well then. If you manage to bring back the head of Snyde the Shadow, then I'll give you 10,000,000 zenny."

The members of this elite 'group' began to murmur, and one even whistled at what he heard. Even Flouse's mouth had dropped at what he heard, and had to forcefully shut it. Then, a rather tall and lanky Reploid stepped up, and quizzed, "10,000,000 zenny? For just one Reploid? What's the catch?"

"There is no catch, my friend. I just want him simply dead," Straight smiled politely, putting his hands in his coat pockets. "If you want, I can just let the 10,000,000 be what everyone gets, and an additional 10,000,000 for the ones who are actually capable of killing him. Just remember that I need a limb of some kind as proof."

"20,000,000 zenny! No way!" another rose, with six arms whipping around at once. "Just who the heck is this Snyde guy, anyways? We've never heard of him before 'till now, and yet here he is having that much cash placed on his small, pathetic, insignificant life!"

"I see you fail to realize my point," Straight responded coolly. He took a brief moment to pull out a gloved hand to stare at it as he began moving his fingers. "Three Reploids had infiltrated my families Reploid factory. A factory that took lots of money to get running, and lots of money to buy resources." He stared at them all with an expressionless gaze. "I need you--the best of the absolute best--to eliminate one of the pests. It just so happens that he is the first person on my list... and also because he is in the town of Mejak, which is close by... and if I must waste some spare change to eliminate him, then I will."

There was some more murmuring with the men. They all knew that an opportunity such as this only came once in a blue moon, with so much money at stake, and for someone like a member of the Goldwall's it was hardly a big deal. With a little more chatting, and a couple of nods, Flouse gave a small, toothy smile as he gently said, "The Ai Jigoku is willing to work with these agreements, young Goldwall. Shall we begin on preparations?"

"Oh, but of course Flouse. I wouldn't want you all to just charge in their blindfolded," he said, emotion suddenly jumping back into his eyes, as he started to have a small, meaningless smile placed on his lips. "First off, does anyone have their own suggestions? Good. I--"

"Hold on, I've got myself one," one of them piped up, who was sitting on a boulder. He was donned in white armor, save for his black visors attached to his pointy helmet. He had odd cuffs attached to his arms and he lacked any real feet. Instead, jet turbines could be found beneath the armored exterior. "The name's Radic the Jet, and I will personally go over to where that bitch Snyde is and kick his damn ass."

"Radic, shut up!" a smaller, tiny Reploid who appeared to be hiding in a trashcan snapped. He had, literally, a big mouth, and it was twisted into a frown of pure hatred. With a jump, he was on the boulder, staring at the Jet in the face, with his large, triangular-shaped, yellow eyeballs. "You just wanna go fight him all by yourself so you can get steal the 20,000,000!"

"That's enough!" Flouse commanded, pulling out an arm and extending his wings to show authority. "I don't care how much you two hate each other, Vex, I will no longer tolerate that attitude of yours!"

A small 'feh' escaped his mouth as he hopped off the rock and began to walk away. Straight decided to continue, with that never fading smile. "Fine then, Radic, so your telling me that your plan of action is for you to go in there all by yourself in an attempt to kick his damn ass, correct?" He received a nod, and his smile grew. "Interesting. IF you manage to pull through with such a ridiculous plan, then I may be willing to double the money for your sake... Still up to it?"

"Heh, 40,000,000 zenny?" he finally got up, hovering above everyone else. He folded his arms and let out a cocky laugh. "It sounds almost too good to be true! I swear that when I'm through with this if you decide to pull a fast one on me you'll regret it!"

Before he could answer, Radic had taken off into the distance. Straight walked toward the edge of the cliff, with Flouse right behind him, watching him quickly shrink into a tiny dot before popping out of existence. The other members, annoyed and frustrated that they could possibly lose their chance to make so much money sighed and began to trudge away, toward the Goldwall estate. Even if they would get 10,000,000 zenny, it was nothing compared to the 40,000,000 zenny that The Jet would receive.

It was then that Flouse decided to speak in his employers ear, saying "You know that Radic will not allow this 'Snyde' to even twitch by the time he's done with him, don't you?" He took a pause to breath. "So why do you think he won't be able to defeat him?"

"It's simple, really. I just happen to know that anyone with that kind of attitude is asking to meet their demise," he answered from the corner of his eye, with a shrug. "From what I have seen, Snyde couldn't even beat that fool, Jackle O'Riely, without some help from Flachion of the Shining Phoenix... But I also like to make things interesting, no?"

"True, true. I am sorry for questioning you, young Goldwall..." he took a step back and bowed. "But the Shining Phoenix? That is quite a rare airship. I heard it was stolen a little after the end of the Elf Wars..."

Straight nodded. "That was our families best airship. It was then stolen by Flachion. If anything, that was one of the worst blows that we had ever earned. To be perfectly honest, I want to save Flachion for last, so he knows without a doubt that he, too, is going to die next." He then faced Flouse, and shooed him away. "I want to be alone for a little while."

Flouse didn't even respond, as he took off into the night sky, back to the Goldwall's estate. Straight never took his eyes off him, as he watched him land on the balcony and through the glass door to the top living room. He had to admit, that having a group of mercenaries such as theAi Jigokudid give him a sense of security, that no more problems would arise from those three pests. After all, theAi Jigokuhad quite the history, with appearing right after the end of the Elf Wars and all. They also had mixed feelings with the general public, since they would either do good or bad, depending on what they were working with. With that in mind, they had people who loved them, and people who hated them. But Straight didn't care. He just wanted them to do their job so he could pay them all and then be off with it. He had things he needed to do, and he didn't want his father to know that there were still problems going about.

"So tell me, Snyde..." he said smiling still, looking out towards the setting sun, "...Can you possibly withstand the power of **my** 'Super Reploids?'"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Elsewhere, back at the city of Mejak, Snyde was in the opera house talking Quisar. It had taken him three whole days to get back, since Flachion was so kind enough as to ditch him in the middle of nowhere, and he was slightly cranky from the lack of sleep. He didn't quite understand why, but lately his luck had been turning into a complete and utter pile of garbage. After explaining his story to the best of his ability, Quisar gasped, shocked.

"I-i-infiltrated the Goldwall's! Madness, sir!" he was sitting down, but it looked as if he was about to jump right out of it. He began to stroke his short, stubby mustache, his eyes widened with fear. "What if they come here? Here! Ohhhh... I don't think my old heart could possibly take it... I feel faint..."

Snyde decided to change the subject. He really did get tired of Quisar's rants. "So... where's Gloria? Did Flachion show up and kidnap her again?"

"Goodness, no! She went to bed early tonight," he still looked nervous, but he tried to calm down, and took a sip of hot tea. "I still can't believe what Flachion has done. After what you did for him and everything! You don't deserve that kind of treatment, sir!"

There was no answer, as Snyde stood up and left. He needed to get away... some peace and quiet for once. Going back to the town, he stopped off in the pub, and had three glasses of scotch. He loved that stuff, it always helped him relax. Ignoring the people staring at how he could so swiftly take off his mask and put it back on, he slugged down a fourth glass and was already requesting for a fifth. He wanted to get drunk, and he was finally starting to feel the side effects from the alcohol. As his white gloves firmly grasped that the petty glass, he was holding his breath to slug it down.

"Somethin' wrong, pal?" the bartender asked, cleaning another glass. He had just finally replaced the nasty tin cups with some fancy glass, even if a Reploid could easily shatter it with no pressure.

"Bah... life just sucks..." he muttered, staring at the venomous liquid. "It seems to me that no matter what the Hell I do, it always bites me, and its been just bugging me lately..."

The bartender's face grimaced at that, and slowly nodded, his eyes closed. "Yeah, know how that is. Mejak's been in some pretty bad shape. Five whole years..." He held the glass up to inspect it, searching for any spots. Not finding any, he put it away and grabbed another. "Well, as much as people who pass on by help the economy, I won't try and stop ya from goin'. I would suggest you actually go visit Heltz, that place is gonna be throwing a tournament soon. Even I may take a day off if the place can hold up."

Heltz. The Rebel series was going to be attacking there eventually. Soon, perhaps. This tournament was also soon. There could be a connection, and yet there might not. Snyde knew that he had to get there before it was too late, but it would take weeks to walk there by foot... and by then it might just be too late to stop what was already beginning. Just what were the Goldwall's planning? Using their vast amounts of money and resources to create an army of... perfect killers? And Jackle O'Riely was now hot on his tail, and he wouldn't be surprised if he were to show up at any minute, exclaiming about he would kill him for revenge. Everything was just getting so... complicated.

"The grim reaper... is always after me..." he said quietly. Fortunately, no one had heard him, as he lowered his head to stare at his drink. He had heard it once, a few years ago, and it just stuck. He never had realized until recently that what he was saying was so true. There were cameras in the Goldwall's factory. He was probably caught. They would know that he was there, and they could easily find him through insurance records for all of the damage he's done. Or maybe he was just imagining things. Maybe all he would have to worry about is O'Riely, since Tog hadn't shown up yet to scold him. Scold him, for something that he felt was doing good. Why the heck was it that he just couldn't agree with him for once, and let him off the hook? Last time he was scolded, he may have killed some people, but in the end he managed to save innocent lives. He should have just killed everyone if that was going to be the case...

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_It was dark, and he didn't know where he was. He felt... different. Odd, even. It was then he noticed someone else. Another Reploid, who also wore nothing but black. He, too, had a sword, but it was the exact opposite of Snyde's. It was long and thin, but it was still way too thick to be a rapier. His shoulder pads also weren't round. They were block-shaped, and his helmet didn't have a curve at the end. No, his helmet had a pair of horns in the back, which twisted down to his neck. He looked pure evil, as his eyes were red, thirsty for blood. Then, in the blink of an eye, they turned to a normal, dull black, and he began walking away. Snyde didn't want to follow, but his legs moved on their own, and he was forced to go._

_After walking for what seemed to be an eternity, the Reploids stopped, and Snyde could hear him say, friendly-like,_ "So, Snyde, I guess we're off, eh? Off on an adventure..."

"Yeah," _he spoke despite his wishes, his struggle in vain._ "Master was killed due to the Elf Wars, and we've got no where else to go... But where--?"

"We'll figure something out," _Was all he could answer, cutting him off. He crossed his arms, thinking, not sure himself._ "But we should keep a low profile... we never know what could happen out there." He then started to walk away. "C'mon, let's get going."

"Hey!" _Snyde began chasing after him, something he found no luxury in._ "Wait for me, Drake!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

In an instant, Snyde shot up, some sheets falling off of his arms. He was in a bed, but where that bed was he wasn't certain. Perhaps he passed out from fatigue, all of those nights with little to no sleep finally catching up to him... Maybe the bartender decided to give him his bed, which was a mistake, as his weight could hardly support the flimsy mattress. Scooting himself off the bed, Snyde went over by a window, moonlight pouring through it as he spotted construction tools were littering the ground, the tired construction workers leaving them behind as they trudged on home hours ago. He wondered what time it was.

But more importantly, he wondered about that dream. That dream... he hadn't had one like it in so long, it almost made him shiver in fear. It seemed to him that no matter how hard he tried he would always be plagued by them, no matter how long ago it was, no matter how far he traveled. It was just as bad as Jackle Oriely, but bad in a different kind of way. If he were, he could just kill Oriely and be done with it. No more questions. But the dreams... they may never end. Even if he were to deactivate himself, he knew that somehow he would only get an eternal dream of those horrifying memories, of that day... of that day...

"Drake," he said solemnly. He lowered his head as he finished, "why is it that you must continue to follow me, even to this day...? Why..."

Not wanting to ruin the bed even more so than he had already, Snyde found a chair and sat in it. Luckily it was metal, the only thing that could support him, as he rested in it, and leaned back, up on a wall. Kicking his boots up on a desk and crossing them, he put his hands behind his head as he continued to think about the dream... dreams... He never tried to think about it, but every time he woke up he just had to. It was the only way to get his mind off of it. He slowly started to nod off back to sleep, however, and began to snore lightly. This time, the dreams were much, much more peaceful...

It was still nighttime as a streak of white flew toward Mejak. Radic the Jet, member of the Maxim Blaizers, had his sights set on a certain Reploid who was hopefully still there. His visors doing a search throughout the town for a Reploid of that description, it started to bleep at a nearing building off to the right of him. Adjusting his flight pattern, he began to go down, preparing for an all outstrike against, from what he considered, the bitch.

"Heh... soon..." he told himself, to help boost his confidence before he got started. "Very soon... all of that money... all of it will be mine... and then I'll just bump Flouse out of the way and take my spot as the true leader of Jigoku! And then... oh then... I'll show 'em all!"

A laugh could be heard by anyone who was awake in that town. Quisar, who had finally gotten out of his suit and into some pajamas, was about to slip into bed when he heard it. Shuddering at the noise, he wondered if Snyde was all right.

_He puts on a big act, to show that he doesn't care about hardly anything..._ he thought, as he turned off the lights. _But I know better than that, after all, he helped save my daughter from that awful Flachion... I truly do hope that things will start to look up for him. I truly do..._

Snyde didn't hear the laugh, however. He didn't hear it, nor did he want to hear it. He wanted to be left alone right then. He wanted to dream of things that didn't result in anything with fighting, killing, insurances, factories, armies, or anything with riches. He just wanted... to dream. A dream that would let him be content for once in his life. Unfortunately, the one thing he didn't want to hear at that time, should have been something he should have heard... It was coming.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Ah, been quite a while, eh? Well, I have yet to finish my next chapter do to so many distractions, but it's getting there. However, I have decided to update the fanfic here, since it has been in dire need of an update, considering that it is so outdated. Anyways, about this chapter... Straight Goldwall called upon the Maxim Blaizers, a group of Reploid mercenaries, to exterminate Snyde. Flouse the Bat, the leader, decided to let Radic the Jet, another member, go after Snyde. And true to his name, Radic is quite radical in what he does. The chapter shall be nothing more than just one large fight scene; a battle to the death. 

And to answer something which might be questioned... Straight is serious about him going all out to killing Snyde. He honestly just wants him dead, and he is capable of going to all extremes to have just one Reploid dead. Plus, he's got money to blow. He's just that rich.


	8. Doomsday Radic

**-Aftermath-**

Chapter Eight - "Doomsday Radic"

There was a loud crash. Not your everyday car crash or a pot crashing into the floor, but a crash that signified that the end was near. Snyde ended up tipping over in his chair when he saw that the wall right next to him get knocked down. On the ground, he slowly looked up, tired and still half-asleep, as he saw the white Reploid of flight, known simply as Radic the Jet.

"So you must be Snyde! Snyde the Shadow, no less!" He laughed maniacally to himself, spotting the black Reploid without any difficulty. And he was asleep too! That was always an added bonus, plus it made his job so much easier. "I won'teven let youknow what's about to happen! DIE!"

It was in two seconds that Snyde came back to reality, noticing that that the half cuffs on Radic whirred to life, sliding down his arms and clicking, a second piece slid out to create a strange cannon. It took another two seconds to realize that the cannon had just fired out a vortex of strange, purple wind directly at him. Rolling off to the left, he grabbed out his sword and stared the Reploid down, angered and confused by what was going on. Just who did this guy think he was, attacking him like that?

"Heh heh... I see you have a sharp eye. Good!" Radic cackled, pleased by this. As much as he wanted the money, he couldn't pass up opportunities such as this. "It seems that I will have myself a grand fight. Don't disappoint me, Snyde!"

"Wait just a sec..." Snyde was back on his feet, and posed for battle. "Just how the Hell do you know my name? Who are you!"

"It's all a game..." he answered simply.

"What!"

Now wasn't the time to talk, as Radic wanted to say at first. Instead, he just continued with his assault, firing continual volleys of vortexes and tornadoes, which easily tore through the buildings cheap material like butter. Snyde ran down the stairs, looking for anybody that he should watch out for. Making it to the bottom, he noticed that he was, indeed, in the bar, and cursed under his breath. Then, noticing another door, he kicked it open to find the bartender, asleep. Running over to him, he put him on his shoulder and ran out of the collapsing building. In a matter of minutes the entire place looked like an unstable block of Swiss cheese, which promptly fell to the ground, dust.

The man, who was put down, was told by Snyde to go find shelter, and warn any people on the way. Faithfully, he ran off into the darkness, as Snyde looked off into the sky to see Radic, hovering ever-so-coolly in the air, his arms folded. Another maniacal laugh echoed in the air as Radic slowly made his way downward, his targets reflection bouncing off of his visor from an unknown light in the distance...

"Very impressive... yes, it seems that we were wrong to underestimate you, Snyde..." he told himself, and slightly chuckled. In no time after that, he charged full-speed, his intention purely to kill. "Your head shall be my battle trophy!" A matter of seconds was all it took as he found the straight-arm punch he had thrown was caught by one hand, completely stopping him. Almost. Throwing another, he too found that it was caught, and he struggled, struggled to push himself forward. Slowly but surely, he made way, Snyde's feet dragging across the pavement, toward his destination... a manhole.

Snyde must have noticed this, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, as he calmly spoke, "If you think I'll fall for something like that, then you won't stand a chance."

"Wh-what did you just say!" Radic fumed.

With that, Snyde released his grip, startling his attacker. But before he had a chance to catch himself, he found that he was grabbed by the arms, and then swung, flying toward a wall. Having no hardly any time to react, he quickly threw his legs behind and started his engines, flames erupting from where his feet should have been. Sparks flew as he found himself edging closer and closer, and he desperately tried to pull himself away, before it was too late. At the last second, he finally came to a halt, the cement wall right at his 'heels.' Barely letting a sigh out, he had to dodge the right as a flash of light came crashing down upon him--Snyde had jumped into the air and attempted to strike down on him, but missed terribly, only leaving a large cut where he once was.

"Damn, I missed," Snyde said, and faced Radic once again. His sword was shining brightly, but from what, was unknown. "Next time I won't."

"Hah! A wise guy, eh? Well, two can play at that game!" he sneered, before letting fly a couple of twisters from his twin cannons. He watched as Snyde nimbly did a flip over them, landing directly in front of him, swinging his massive blade yet again. Radic hovered back, hardly an inch away from the razor-sharp steel. It was in that moment that another tornado went flying, and then another, followed by another. Being no fool, Snyde started to avoid the attacks, trying to get away from what he considered to be a small, cramped area to fight with.

Radic soon began to follow, intent to not lose his target, continuing with his assault. It was apparent that Snyde made his way out and away from the town, past the opera house. Not only was he trying to make his way out, however, but he tried his best to move people out of the way if they happened to be there, and to not damage property. Little did he realize, though, was how much faster his chaser was, and he was soon directly above him, not letting up on his attacks, which caused small explosions upon contact with the ground. Snyde could hear his taunting above him, like 'You can't escape,' or 'Just give up.' Getting fed up, he quickly stopped, watching as his opponent flew for a few more seconds before realizing what had happened, and tossed his sword at him, hand axe-style.

"Heh heh heh, is that all you've got?" He taunted, snatching the blade by the handle with one hand. Noticing Snyde's eyes had widened, he laughed again. "While you've got skill, or _talent_, should I say... I know almost every trick in the book. You can't defeat me!" He began to laugh maniacally at this point, twirling the sword like a baton perfectly, and then threw it up in the air, just to snatch it yet again. "My turn." With that he lobbed it toward him with all his might, the sword turning into a guillotin. Without and hesitation, Snyde braced himself as he caught it as well, this time his hands on the flat part of each blade. He was pushed lightly back, his feet screeching along the steel-flooring, and he heard Radic's voice ring in his head, "Not bad, I'll admit. But as I said before, it'll take a lot more than that to defeat me, as you can plainly see..."

"Cut the bullshit already, and answer my fucking question!" Snyde cursed aloud, angry as he swung his sword down. "Just who the Hell are you, and why are you trying to kill me!"

"Oh, I see, it's answers you want?" He said, smugly. "I suppose I could 'humor' you, if you must, before I take your life..." He slowly lifted himself up into the air, far above Snyde, but still audible. "My name is Radic the Jet, and my reason for being here, to kill you, is quite simple--You see, it's all just one, big game, Snyde. One big game... And in this game, YOU happen to be it. Everything for a brilliant prize... A prize that no one it their right mind could possibly pass up!"

"A prize? What kind of prize?" he urged for an answer, taking a step forward. "Just who's your employer?"

"Hah, like I'd just tell you about our 'employer.'" He stopped to laugh a bit more, and continued. "His identity is to remain a secret from you, in case you somehow manage to survive... though I doubt it... All I know, is that this is a game; a game which you're the target, reeking of that beautiful prize! And I plan to snatch it all up! Hah hah hah!"

Like a rocket, Radic launched himself forward, his sights locked onto the mysterious Reploid. What he met with was the sword, his fist smashing upon the smooth, well-polished surface. Letting his force go, he silently fell back, and watched as the swordsman swung his blade around in a commendable fashion. Not missing a chance, Radic also reached into the darkness, blindly grabbing a long, steel pole, and became poised for battle. The two powerhouses came at one another, and a loud bang, as the metal clanged and jingled about. With a sudden retaliation, the two became intertwined with their own weapons, staring directly into each others faces... It became clear, right then, right now, that neither force was about to give up, that the two had high stakes, for honor, and pride.

"It all comes down to this, eh, Snyde?" Radic spoke, his voice slightly rasp. His grip tightened on the pole, and he pushed even more of his might down. "One of us will die here, and the other shall receive a wonderful prize...What do you say? SNYDE!"

Snyde did not reply, as he only gave out, hopping back, watching Radic stumble. It wasn't his time to strike, though, and he knew it, as Radic charged once again, swinging his pole with an almighty force backing him. Soon more bangs could be heard, as they both continually swept away the oncoming blows with their own, and dodging others. They both traded places, and started moving up and down the streets, no longer minding the surroundings, both wanting to go for a kill.

The hunter and the hunted eventually reached the very middle of the seemingly deserted town, both still not showing any signs of fatigue, both still wanting to go at it, both still prepared to meet their end at the other. It was then that with a quick fling of the wrist, Snyde had actually managed to knock the pole away, sending it flying over a small structure. A scream erupted immediately after, as Radic landed to the ground on one knee, covering what appeared to be an arm with no hand.

"Damn you!" he spat. Oil had begun to drip from his wound, splattering the ground with it's reddish color. "Look at what you've done to me... you bastard!"

"Sticks and stones, friend," Snyde finally retorted, resting his blade on a shoulder. "Obviously, you had it coming, and good riddance is what I say. Stupid kid..."

"Kid! Why, you... Snyde...!" he growled under his breath.

"C'mon, let's get this over with..." he got into a lazy stance, his arm extending outward, his eyes focusing on his foe. He slowly slide his sword from his resting spot, allowing Radic to take a long look at his reflection, still holding his own arm, before it landed on the ground, obstructing vision. Snyde closed an eye as he faced, what he figured, to be the end. "The grim reaper has better challenges to throw at me... You're just a waste of my time..."

"Waste... of... time...? Waste of time..." Was all Radic could muster up to say. He couldn't believe at the treatment, that he, one of the elites, was receiving! "Stupid... kid..." He had been called a stupid kid, from some guy who he had never given a care until now. "No one treats me like some... piece of trash... in fact, that should be YOU!"

In rage, Radic began lashing out at Snyde, with both arms and his legs, while screaming and yelling. Snyde could only watch with a certain level of satisfaction as he easily dodged everything thrown, before delivering a perfect uppercut to the jaw, causing Radic to go flying, just to crash into the ground. Trying his best to get up, Radic was quickly back into the air, and turned just to meet Snyde's foot. Falling back down, a single crack ran across his visor, and a growl was heard as he flew off into the sky, still keeping his eyes on the Reploid.

Going far past all of the buildings, he took a look at the entire layout of the town, before snickering to himself. "Hee hee hee. Who the fuckin' Hell cares if I lost a hand? With what I'm going through, I'll be able to get myself more than just a hand! Hah hah hah... Yes, soon. But first I'm going to take this little bitch with me, even if it forces me to levelan entire city!"

His arms whirling back to life, the two cuffs he bore swiftly shot forward, a small click to confirm. Taking his two arms forward and slamming them together, it became clear that the halves had formed an even larger cannon, and tiny jolts of electricity soon started to fly, daring to lash out at the very creator. Soon, very soon... it would all be over. The humiliation he had just earned; the pain no less. He would make certain that everyone were made clear of this, and rot.

A swirl of energy began to build at the tip of his cannon, a spinning into a small, but powerful, vortex. It was made of pure air, and it began to grow larger and larger in size, almost to the point where not even Radic could control it. Yet he didn't stop. He continued to let it increase in size, until it was even bigger than himself. Laughing hysterically, he finally called down, "SNYDE! YOU ARE SO GOING TO DIE!"

It wasn't required for him to yell like that, since Snyde could perfectly see what was happening. The clouds themselves were sucked into the deadly vortex, allowing him to see the massive, purple energy building. His eyes nearly popping out of his head, he tried his best to calm himself down as he readied his sword, preparing for the absolute worst. He wasn't exactly sure if he could reflect something that wasn't made of plasma... but he would definitely give it a try, unless he found the thought of being blown to smithereens exciting.

Right then, right before Radic fired, everything seemed to slow down--as if in slow motion. The air that was accumulated finally fired, tugging some unknown object behind it, looking as if it would never hit. Snyde raised his sword over his head, going at an even slower pace, his eyes cracking from the stress. Building began to crumble away around him, as the ball still continued to suck things up, allowing it to enlarge even further. When it was first fired, it was double the size of the two Reploids. Now it was three times the size of Snyde himself. The comparison almost caused him to drop his sword, but he prevailed, as he thrusted his sword, bashing into the air, tearing a small portion of it open, gusts of air blasting out at high pressure, threatening to push him out of the way.

"Hah hah hah hah!" Radic could only laugh as he usually did, watching the 'show.' "How sad. Not to mention pathetic! Trying to stop the inevitable? How clichéd! Why don't you just stop and give up now? It's not like anyone will actually thank you for your deeds after this over!"

Snyde growled under his breath, noting that the ground beneath him was beginning to crumble to dust. His footing would soon give... "What's it matter to you... Even if I continue the city will be destroyed... Unless this isn't as strong as I've come to expect!" He pushed deeper with his trusty blade, the ball distorting around him, not being able to handle the pressure of two opposing forces at once. It would only be a matter of time... and Radic sensed this.

"Please, spare me, Snyde!" he chuckled a bit, happy at what was happening. "No matter what you do, the same thing will happen!" Another laugh howled from under his helmet. "You see this town? The people that live here? Better go on and say goodbye! We Reploids all have the same purpose in life! To destroy and kill everything that comes in our way! You can't escape from your destiny! It doesn't make any difference what you do! It's futile to resist such a fate!"

"Damn it... even if you are correct..." Snyde struggled with his words, "I'm still going to try... and prove you wrong!"

"Heh heh... resisting even after I told you it was meaningless, huh? I guess you'll go down to the bitter end! Well, that's fine by me. The more you struggle, the more you just prove **yourself** wrong!" he mused, hoping for another comment so he could reply back.

No one bothered to reply, however. The ball, trying its best to withstand all of the abuse, had finally made its way to the breaking point. In one last moment of desperation, it squealed, and twisted itself into a knot, before exploding, letting all of the compacted air finally out, free to leave the captivity. But from all of the pressure, practically everything in the way didn't even have a chance to be knocked down, as the building were disintegrated in a matter of seconds. Anything that could possibly have stood up to the powerful blows were lifted off the ground, sent flying back. Bodies, of both humans and Reploids, were found flying through the vast amounts of debris, along with contruction tools, and large, metal support beams. It was either that the people died from direct contact from the blast, or they were hit from the random objects. It didn't seem to matter what would happen, as it would all lead to the same exact thing--death.

"It's the end of the game..." Radic watched on, noting the power that he had unleashed. "It's the end of the game, and it's game over for you! Hah hah hah hah!"

But from what Radic couldn't see from the mess created down below, would have shocked him. Surprisingly Snyde lasted, using his sword as a shield from the wind. He had to close both of his eyes, as the wind was still capable of whipping at his sides, including his face. He was just amazed at the power one could create! From air, no less! Still, he knew that as long as this continued, Radic would just continue to destroy. "Damn him... Damn him to Hell! Do you hear, me, Radic? Isaid damn you to** HELL**!"

It was far too late, however. Radic couldn't even hear him, as another blast had somehow come, and caused the ground to completely give, throwing Snyde out into the air, blasted to where everyone else was meant to go. He wondered what would happen then, to him, to the town of Mejak, not to mention Quisar and Gloria. He wondered if Flachion and Jackle O'Riely were there, also ending up in the same predicament. He wondered, if possible, of other things as well... Things that he did not like to think of, but discovered this may be the last time he'd be able to live with those memories.

All he could do, was think. And remember.

**To be continued...**

**

* * *

Author's Notes:** Yet another long break. I am sad to say that I lost interest in this, but out of nowhere I randomly decided to start working on it again. So, yay to all who read this. Also, for those who are curious, I have gone back to the last seven chapters and re-editted everything. So now, instead of have 100+ typos, I only have 50+ typos. :P

Anyways, about this chapter. This definitely is one of the more serious fights I have planned, considering that hundreds of thousands die (if you didn't guess). Yep, Radic is very "radical" in everything he says and does. Of course, I find that I like his character quite a bit, but that is just me. So, next chapter, will Snyde survive? Obviously, he must, or I would be lacking a main character. But what other exciting turn of events can possibly unfold! Find out... whenever I update next!


	9. Game Over

**-Aftermath-**

Chapter Nine - "Game Over"

It somehow felt familiar to Snyde, as he let out a small moan that echoed throughout the area, to nowhere in particular. A large boulder was on top of him, on his back, and he had no idea what just happened, let alone on how he should get it off. Out of reaction, he attempted to lift himself up, but ended up falling back down, his head slightly banging on the little tiny rocks under him. He moaned again. Today just wasn't his day, and he could barely recall exactly what had happened. And so he laid there, for what seemed to be an eternity, not budging an inch.

Finally, he lifted his eyes, and spotted something. A girl. A human girl, no less, lying a few feet in front of him. Mumbling something unclear to even himself, he tugged at his limbs, trying to pry himself away from the heavy rock. It took some time, but eventually the boulder fell to the side, away from his body, and he was still intact. Climbing back to his feet, he took a few weary steps toward the girl, and lifted her up, in an attempt to see if she was all right.

"Hey, kid... you all right?" He spoke unclear, still not quite there. After a few minutes, he slightly shook her. Still, nothing happened. Shaking her again, this time harder, he yelled, "Hey, c'mon, open your eyes! Open them!" After shaking her some more, he stopped as he noticed for the first time that the child's body was lifeless, void of a soul. He nearly dropped her, as he slowly put her down and stood up, his eyes not leaving the small body.

Everything was coming back to him. Joining up with Flachion, infiltrating the Goldwall's Reploid factory, running into Jackle O'Riely... He recalled leaving Quisar back at the opera house, and having a some sake before waking up at the bartender's house. Then Radic the Jet appeared... Radic, that vile piece of trash, who had attempted to kill him, to earn some 'prize.' That prize was very costly, as it seemed, for it also took his own hand, followed by a huge blast. A blast which destroyed the entire town of Mejak! It was clear what had happened. There was no sense in trying to hide it. It was destroyed, maybe even the opera house. All of the humans were more than likely dead, with a few Reploid and Mechaniloids survivors. He was fortunate to have lived, but he didn't feel like it right then, right now. All he could do was stare at the senseless destruction of the town that it once was. There was no possible way it would be able to rebuild after this... There was just no way.

Snyde clenched his fist and watched it quiver. "It's... it's just..." He tried to find the words, but they were lost. He was absolutely speechless. "It's just... idiotic... Idiotic... and furthermore... and... and..." He growled, now angered. "Blasted Radic! This is all your fault! You will pay! Do you hear me! YOU WILL PAY!"

With nothing left to go for, he started to run, destination nowhere. He saw all of the destruction, on how there was hardly anything left. Apparently, he was getting closer, as the rubble soon began to clear, revealing nothing but sand, where he was certain civilization had once thrived upon. In the distance, he spotted him. The one who was responsible for all of this mess. He had landed, and appeared to be observing all of the destruction that he had caused.

"Radic! You're going to pay for all of this!" Snyde yelled, coming to a stop. He was very tired... but he wasn't going to give up. "All of those lives were taken thanks to you!"

"Heh heh heh... Snyde, how nice to see you again..." he muttered, right before taking off back into the sky, hovering slightly above his foe. He chuckled a bit more. "Don't you ever get tired of the whole 'heroic' thing?"

"Don't you ever get tired of being a fucking asshole!" he spat back, even angrier than before. "You killed all of those innocent people! All of them! That will not be forgiven!"

"Hah! I killed them all?" Radic laughed, folding his arms. "That's where you're wrong, pal. You killed them all! That's why I'm here, after all. If you weren't, this whole place wouldn't have changed!" He got a small growl, and tilted his head to the side. "In fact, I'd even dare to say that you killed them all purposely!"

"God damn it, shut up!" Snyde screamed, smashing his blade on the ground. "Just shut up! I'm tired of your damn mouth!"

"Confused? Angry? Upset?" he didn't let up his taunting. "Well then, why don't you just release it all upon this world? The humans aren't about to thank you for anything. They really don't care what the heck you do, until you go off and get them involved! Of course, you already know how that is, don't you, Snyde? You've already angered quite a few people... You should have just killed them when you had a chance!"

There was some slight stirring, as Snyde thought of what Radic had said. People were angered at what he had done? He should have just... killed them? He knew there was a term for Reploids doing that, but he wasn't quite certain. It seemed so... _ancient_. Could it still possibly exist, in this day and age? He continued to struggle with the term, until his eyes widened at the conclusion. "...Maverick?" He heard Radic laugh slightly. "No way! Maverick's ceased to exist years ago! I can't be one!"

"Fool! Mavericks will never die out!" Radic yelled. "As long as Reploids continue to fight against mankind, they will always be labeled as a Maverick... that, too, is a destiny that we cannot avoid! Even the most loyal, stuck-up Reploids will think about Rebellion at least once in their lives... and when they do... They become Maverick, and they will never be able to go back! Do you understand what I am saying? Snyde!"

"Bah... even if I am a Maverick... you are as well. But we still think differently. And while I may be one... I can still try my hardest to fight for good! Even if I have to take someone down, like you!" Snyde answered, unsure of how to put his words together.

"Hah! Couldn't agree more!" He nodded, enthusiastically. "The problem is with the humans. They are the disease of us Reploids, not viruses! Once you are out of the way, I plan to bring the entire world to a new, glorious age... With those pathetic humans out of the way! Not even Neo Arcadia will be able to stop me!"

It was on. Snyde had jumped high into the air, and swung his sword down, attempting to hit Radic. All Radic had to do was move out of the way, as he began firing an uncountable number of tornadoes, while flying away. Effectively dodging them all, Snyde cursed as he saw him, flying off toward some of the rubble left by the destruction of Mejak. For him, it was like he was hiding in the very filth that he had made, and it upset him even further, as he took off after him. He was going to find him, and then kill him, in the most brutally way possible.

Venturing to the rubble, he was saddened every time he found something that was either dead or destroyed. It was then he spotted the bartender, who had been so gracious enough to allow him to spend the night, propped up against a wall. Coming over to him, he put his hand over his face to close his eyes, and sighed sadly. "Maybe Radic was right. If I wasn't here, they wouldn't have died. The least I can do now, is just kill Radic..." No less than saying that had the wall exploded, the dead body sent flying, as Radic rammed himself in Snyde, causing him to crash into another wall, knocking him senseless.

"Yeah, that's right. Go ahead and kill me, Snyde. You won't prove a thing!" he roared with laughter, seeing the state he was in. "You're so pathetic, so cliché'd! 'I'll just go and kill the evildoer and then everything will be a-okay!' Hah! Only people who live in a dream world can actually go off and say things like that!"

All Snyde could do was peel himself off the wall, and fall to his knees, both mentally and physically drained. He just couldn't stand Radic's lectures anymore... He was hoping for a distraction of some sort. Anything to get him out of this never-ending nightmare, of where everyone appeared to die, no matter what happened. All he could do, was hope, as he looked up to watch his enemy point his weapon directly at him, and as he could have sworn he heard him say 'See you on the other side.'

"Snyde!" he heard a familiar voice call out from the distance. He looked up and saw it was Quisar, running, his clothes untidy for having to rush. "Watch out, sir! He's about to kill you!"

"Who the heck is this? A friend of yours? Is that even possible?" Radic joked to himself, as he saw the middle-aged man from afar. "And he's human, to boot! I don't know how he could have survived, but I have to say that it's very unfortunate for you both, Snyde." Lifting off into the air, he blasted toward the latest newcomer. "For now I'll demonstrate just what I plan to do with this world!"

Hurriedly, Snyde got back up, scared now for Quisar and his safety. Chasing after, he knew that with Radic's overall speed he would have no chance in making it on time. He only had one shot... but it was proven to be ineffective before, but he still had try. With a sudden halt, he reared his sword back, ready for a kill, as he tossed it a little ways before Radic. It wasn't preemptive, however, as he expected it, and slowed down, watching a flash of silver blaze past him. Almost getting thrown off balance, Radic found himself to stop and laugh.

"Again with the same old tricks, Snyde? You truly are a cliché! Hah hah hah!" He then jerked his head toward Quisar, who had backed himself up into a dead end. "Poor, little human. You are like a mere mouse to me, and soon, you shall be my dinner!"

Before he had a chance to take off, though, he felt a pain shoot through his leg, followed by an explosion. Flying out of control, he ended up crashing into the wall right next to Quisar, who promptly took off yet again, this time right behind Snyde, who had finally caught up to watch another of Radic's moments of humiliation.

"Quisar, I want you to get out of here," Snyde said flatly.

"B-but sir! What if he kills you!" Quisar blubbered, tears strolling down his face. "I wouldn't be able to live with the bear that I never properly thanked the one who saved my precious Gloria!"

"Hey don't worry about it... Besides, if it wasn't for you, I would have been dead now," Then, motioning him away, he continued, "Now go. You'll only get in my way. This is something that I need to do alone. If I were to die... I am at least going to take this guy with me..."

"I understand, sir..." There was a noise, and Quisar jumped. "Oh dear, oh my! He's coming to! Bye-bye, sir, please don't die on me!" And with that, he was gone in a flash.

It didn't take long before Radic had lifted himself up. From what he had figured out, the sword worked like a boomerang if no one caught it, and since he had been through the trick of catching it, he figured that dodging it would be even easier. It wasn't quite as simple, as it had plunged into his right leg, damaging the jet turbine right when he had used the thrusters, thus causing it to blow, which resulted in the sudden collision, head-first. He could had trouble seeing out of his visor because of his, as it had multiple cracks running through it now, making his near-perfect vision ruined, as all of the functions that had been included were ultimately disabled. The worst part was how he was at ground level with the enemy, something that he tried to avoid after losing his hand.

"Heh..." he chuckled sheepishly, as he flopped around to face an angry Snyde, who's sword was ready for a kill. "I guess the game is over now, isn't it, Snyde? It's all over, and you've won, while I've lost... You won't get any prize for it, though... And it won't change your destiny... Nothing will ever change.Both of us know it..."

"Why, why, WHY!" he screamed, his anger and confusion building. "Why did you have to do this! Why do you think like that!"

"So many questions, so little time..." He nearly gasped, still neck-deep in fatigue. "I told you that I was doing it for a prize... Money... All of that wonderful money... Who could refuse such an offer? Only a fool, I tell ya..." A cough broke his sentence. He was having trouble breathing. "As for why I have come to this conclusion... is that it's so true... Why do Reploids exist? What was the purpose of creating such powerful robots... that's all we are, after all. Just robots based off of some 'superior' robot... Reploids, my ass..."

At that moment, Snyde was reminded of a scene from earlier, in his past life. A Reploid, was lying down, in the middle of nowhere, covered in his own oil, running down his black, polished armor. He was saying something, something which he refused to remember, which caused him to leave. He wasn't exactly certain how it had happened, how those two ended up getting separated like that. Why it had to happen, as well. It was nonsense for him, just complete and utter nonsense...

Radic must have noticed him loosen up, as he coughed once again, and spoke even worse, "Does my condition sadden you, Snyde the Shadow? Does it? Or maybe it is reminding you of something from your past...? Not like it matters... I'm a dead Reploid..." He shuddered despite his own will. "It's a cruel world. You have to be hard to survive, and prove to it that you are superior to others... Sometimes you just have to get over it, though..."

There was some silence, as Snyde stared at the sight of Radic, who's appearance almost made him think that it caused his personality to change. Just when was he so... wise?

"...Answer me this. Just who were you working for? I need to know..."

"Hah, you really want to know?" he questioned.

"Yeah..."

Attempting to stand, but failing, Radic slid back down, defeated, the leg that was no longer there not helping. "I work for a group... called the Ai Jigoku... a groupcomposed withten other powerful mercenaries, all with different abilities... We have been revered as both a blessing, and an abomination upon everyone and everything alike..." He started to hack, but forced himself to stop. "We... were hired by a man... apparently you had done something to him in the past... and he is willing to do anything in his power to put an end to it... But even if you were to stop him... it wouldn't be the end... for there are others..."

"A name! I need a name! Radic!" Snyde said, impatient, knowing that he had little time. "Who hired the Maxim Blaizers!"

"Sorry, but even if I am on the verge of death... I refuse to disobey my orders... even if he was just some... human scum..." he coughed a bit more, and then finally stopped. He refused to budge. Not even an inch. Radic the Jet was officially dead, joining the rest of the souls that were lost in this battle, to a place that was impossible to reach by living hands.

Walking away was all Snyde could do, ashamed at what had happened. All of that pointless destruction, and no one would be receiving any sort of satisfaction. In the end, it all felt like it as a waste of time, energy... lives. He wondered how many could have possibly have survived. If they were living as far as Quisar, then yes, there would be some humans that may have survived. Reploids could take a bigger beating--he was prime example, for being right next to the source of it all. Still, he could only help but gaze upon the corpses of the dead, some that were torn open, intestines splattered everywhere, various amounts of fluids dripping from unknown places... And for what? Nothing, absolutely nothing. And the images of both the past and the present haunted his mind...

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"What are we doing here, Drake?" _Snyde asked, trying to keep up with his friend. The two of them had walked into a seemingly deserted city, the effects of the Elf Wars apparent. People only stared as the two Reploids may their way down the street._

"We here to look for a job,"_ Drake replied, stopping to look around for a bit._ "Hm, this city seems pretty dead, if you'd ask me. It was probably a mistake to come here..."

"Uh... yeah..." _Snyde rubbed the back of his head, thinking._ "So... what kind of job did you have in mind?"

"Ah, nothing much. Something that would benefit us and our skills would sound appropriate, if you ask me," _Drake crossed his arms and nodded._ "We were designed to fight. Despite how nice our master was, both you and I know he created us for the soul intention of fighting the Elf Wars. We just got lucky, with the wars ending right before we were dragged onto the battle field. Master wasn't so fortunate, though..."

"Hm, it seemed strange, though, how he just died like that. Don't you agree?" _Snyde pondered._ "I mean, that one last renegade Reploid had killed him, out of desperation..."

"Don't worry too much about it. I highly doubt Master would want us to," _he began to walk away without notice._ "C'mon, Snyde. Let's get going."

_In a split second Snyde was back to attempting to keep up._ "Hey! Drake, wait!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

That's all his purpose in life was... to fight. But how much blood must shed through it? It was strange for him. Fighting was all he had left... yet he despised it more than anything else. And he still ended up helping to kill thousands of innocent humans and Reploids. All of those casualties... All it did was force him to go back to the question that started it all: For what? The answer was as clear as day, though, that Radic had done it for the money, that someone had wanted him dead. With him gone, one of the Ai Jigoku, it would just force another, maybe even two or three, to go after him, and the same thing would happen. That wasn't the answer he was looking for.

If he managed to defeat the other eleven members of the Maxim Blaizers with the same consequences, in the end, no one would profit from it, in any way. Only losses would be inflicted, for people who lost loved ones, to the insurance agency... Oh yes, the insurance agency. They will absolutely _love_ him for this one. He could hear it now, Tog telling him that he has to 'stop such nonsense,' or how 'it's going to force me to work overtime,' or his personal favorite, 'I fucking hate you, you know that?' It was true as to what Radic said. He had angered a lot of people, intentional or not.

Making his way from what he believed to be the direction of Quisar's house, he blinked in surprise as a group of Reploids jumped him, and then slapped some handcuffs on him. "You're under arrest!" Typical.

"I guess I deserve to be thrown away, huh? Well, go on and get it over with..." he started to laugh sadly, completely unhappy with his life.

As they began pushing and shoving him away, a voice peirced the air, yelling, "Stop right there!"

"Oh... Tog. You're here too?" Snyde noted briefly. "Guess you finally just got plain old tired of me destroying everything, and called the police on my sorry ass."

"No, no, no, you damn fool!" Tog smacked him across the face, scolding him. "What the Hell has gotten into, boy! I never called the police on you! Can you even see straight? These are just some punks who found some handcuffs!"

With a quick glance, Snyde realized that some little Reploids had been playing with him. Slightly embarrased for not even realizing that, he tore the cuffs off, the cheap material no match for his superior strength. He then looked Tog in the eye, who had promptly grabbed him by the wrist and began dragging him away from the young boys.

"You've got a lot of explainin' to do, Snyde," he said simply, walking toward a large amount of ambulances out in the distance. "I heard that the town of Mejak had been completely wiped out,by some Reploid. And now I find you here. Just what the heck did you do!"

"You want to know? Fine, I'll tell you," With that, he freed his arm from Tog's grip. "Some guy came after my life, and in the end everyone died. End of story."

"...Someone else did this?" Tog was stupified. Not getting an answer, he frowned. "Well then, where the heck is he? I need to see this guy for myself. Thanks that bastard I won't be able to get out of the office for weeks!"

There was some more silence, before Snyde gave out a sigh and simply said, "I killed him. So, I guess that I'm the one who will get the blame, right? After all, I'm the one who ALWAYS gets the blame. It can never be anyone else. Just me." He watched as Tog appeared to be slightly taken back by the comment.

"Whoa, now listen, it's not like I want to blame you all of the time... It's just that you're usually at the heart of all of it!" Tog accused, feeling insulted. "Speaking of which, we've gotten reports for what you've done to all of the destroyed Ride Chasers back at Tagechi's Rideserver, and Goldwall's factory down near Heltz! Don't you understand that you are the blame despite my feelings toward the topic!" All he got was a grumble or two. Snyde wasn't in a good mood, but he didn't care at this point. "I am just sick and tired of you always going around destroying everything in a ten mile radius! Snyde! I am going to make it my duty that you never get in trouble with the insurance agency again!"

"Wait, what?" Snyde was confused. "Are you telling me that you're going to become my personal stalker, and watch my every move?"

"I would do it myself. Oh, believe me... I would definitely do it myself," Tog snickered silently. "Unfortunately I am way too busy with this latest incident, so I'll have someone in my stead. Allow me to introduce him..."

Walking over the ambulances, Snyde watched as the bodies of people were carted away, and how the living ones were either severely injured, or were crying over the losses of loved ones, or other injured people. He could have sworn he spotted Quisar and Gloria far off as well, probably crying for some friends that they may have known. Tog, however, kept a straight face as he entered a large vehicle from the back. It was like an ambulence, except it floated, and Snyde found himself stumbling to get on; the after effects of the fighting had finally hit him like a ton of bricks. Upon entering, he noticed one Reploid was there, a huge smile spread across his face. Snyde recognized him immediately, and saw Tog had patted him on the back.

"...HIM!" Snyde pointed at Starfighter, who was going hysterical. "But... but... how? Why... when? You, but... what the Hell, I thought you were working at a pub in Vurious!"

"Oh, I guess I should explain! After you left, Mr. Tog had come to Vurious looking for you. When he told me that you got into quarrels with the insurance agency on a regular basis, I decided to quit and get a job there!" Starfighter was litterly glowing at this point, estatic that he was getting a chance to work with someone where his true skills would be needed. "Isn't that the best idea you've ever heard? Huh? Isn't it?"

"Tog... please tell me you aren't serious," Snyde's voice was trembling slightly. He noticed that Tog was also smiling brightly, which scared him even further.

"'Fraid I am, Snyde. The kid really has been lookin' forward to seeing you again, and I just couldn't say no," Tog widened his smile some more, his pearly white teeth gleeming almost as brightly as his head did. "If you ask me, I could say it was the best idea ever!"

"Best idea ever... yeah. Right," Snyde ignored Tog, but couldn't do the same for Starfighter, who continued to pester him with how great his idea was. Tightening his fist, it didn't take long before he bolted forward and grabbed the young kid by the neck, strangling him.

It was going to be a long night for the three. They all knew it.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Well, well, now that I've actually got back into writing, the updates are going to be much more plentiful. Thank God for that. About this chapter, and I should just explain this, since it will come up later, and it may confuse some... Back in Chapter 8, Snyde hated Radic. At the beginning of Chapter 9, Snyde is, obviously, pissed, but when he finally defeats Radic he gets a sense of pity for the Reploid, and he wonders if he was truly as bad as he made himself out to be. Anyways, what will happen now? Will the Ai Jigoku defeat Snyde next time? And what of the Rebel Series attack on Heltz? It is all coming in good time... good time.

Speaking of which, Ai Jigoku, formerly known as the Maxim Blaizers (never did like the name much), is japanese for "Love Hell." So, I figured I would just point that out now. ;)


End file.
